


Full of Secrets

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: The X-Files, Twin Peaks
Genre: Betrayal, Black Lodge, Case Fic, Crossover, Demonic Possession, Domestic Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Het, Murder, Post-Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Serial Killers, Song Lyrics, White Lodge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between the pilot and episode 2, Scully debates whether or not to stay with the X-Files given she is having an affair with Mulder. Meanwhile, Mulder takes them to Twin Peaks thanks to a set of copycat murders that recall Laura Palmer. Intrigue, violence, and mystical journeys await.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser Trailer and Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Confused by all the Twin Peaks stuff? Try http://twinpeaks.org or http://twinpeaks.2000revue.com

 

[Music: Familiar notes of the Twin Peaks theme. Brief establishing shot of the Double R exterior, then interior-- Bobby Briggs has just walked inside and notices Norma Jennings Hurley.]

BOBBY: Hey, hey, Norma, turn that frown upside down!

Norma smiles and shakes her head. Bobby smiles back. As this happens:

ANNOUNCER: It's been three years since the death of Laura Palmer was finally laid to rest.

[Cut to exterior shots of Great Northern Hotel, stock footage of the series in happy moments (ie, Donna and James together, Shelly and Bobby kissing, lone shot of Audrey) as music swells]

ANNOUNCER (con'd): But in a town like Twin Peaks, no mystery ever really dies.

[Blackout. Light on Dale Cooper's face, bleeding, in the shattered mirror from last shot of series. Music change as we zoom in.]

COOPER: We are going to take this town by storm, the way we were always meant to. Isn't that right? [laughter]

[Cut to shot of BOB in the mirror. CU: Cooper, sitting with the body of Penelope Larson-- CUT TO: Annie Blackburne, being menaced by crazy Cooper-- cut to: Norma Hurley, looking unhappy-- CUT back to original scene in DRD-- close in on Log Lady, suppress music--]

LOG LADY: (apparently to camera) The darkness is roaming loose again. My log heard it in the air, but I could not believe it. Can't you feel the darkness? It seeks to consume souls--

[Cut to Mulder and Scully, standing at the check-in desk at the Great Northern, no music.]

MULDER: Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my partner, Dr. Dana Scully.

[Music shift to X-Files theme, but overlaying second set of musical themes]

[Cut to in quick succession: Mulder and Scully kissing, Mulder and Scully at DRD with Norma and Shelly, Scully writhing in bed, Cooper shaking hands with Mulder and Scully, Mulder and Scully at the Roadhouse, with final shot of Scully in Cooper's arms, being caressed]

COOPER: I have a riddle for you. Can you guess it?

[His fingers trace her lips. She shivers and he strokes her neck while continuing to speak]

COOPER: How does satisfaction lead to appetite? How does appetite lead to satisfaction?

SCULLY (v.o.): I will catch you.

[Cut to: Scully by the windowsill in the Great Northern, eyes full of tears. She sinks to her knees.]

SCULLY: I didn't want this! Oh, God, I never wanted this.

[Music changes again]

[Cut to, quickly: Mulder and Scully running through woods-- Harry shaking hands with M&S-- Audrey standing up from her wheelchair with gun-- Scully and Donna looking angry at each other-- Mulder on the ground, eyes closed-- finally Scully alone in the dark, light barely illuminating only her face. She looks up.]

SCULLY: Help me. [beat] Somebody please help me.

[Fade to black, only the sound of her breathing and the music. The title-- Full of Secrets-- flashes across the scene, slow fade.]

Tagline: Some mysteries never die.


	2. Teaser Trailer and Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and you are out there." --Yasutani Roshi

   _[This is definitely not part of the official FBI record of the reopened case involving Special Agent Dale Cooper and Twin Peaks. However, this information does have the benefit of making the case--and its investigators--much more understandable and sympathetic. For these reasons, we include as part of the text. --Eds.]_

**March 27, 1989**

  
**Twin Peaks, Washington**  
 

The door was closed, he was bleeding, and it didn't matter at all. Not one little bit.

"How's Annie? How's Annie? How's Annie?" he sneered at the broken reflection. He was free of the Lodge again and this time he had a fine vessel to do his work with. The town loved this man, the quirky, straight arrow FBI agent who had come to solve the great mystery-- who killed Laura Palmer?

As if it mattered. They had already known, secretly, in their hearts. BOB knew this the way he knew all the secret darknesses.

"We," he said to his bloody reflection, "Are going to take this town by storm, the way we were always meant to. Isn't that right?"

His reflection grinned back at him. Then BOB felt the sudden pain of having smashed his head into glass. Quickly, he grabbed a washrag and began to clean up the mess, still grinning like a shark.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I promised that I'd kill again, and I have no intention whatsoever of breaking my word. This town is going to know my power."

He turned back to his reflection. Very primly, he picked out a piece of glass and laughed. This was going to be fun.

  
 

**March 27, 1992**

  
**Annapolis, Maryland**

Dana Scully was washing her face, trying very hard to avoid her own reflection. She didn't want to see her expression because she knew it was thoughtful and she was trying very hard not to think, not to wonder, not to feel sick to her stomach.

In less than a month, her life had gone from an orderly, predictable, and occasionally boring routine to a hip cosmic joke and it had everything to do with the crazy man she had been assigned to by a group of her superiors-- people she had believed she could trust. Her world was now full of strange non-sequiturs, echoing in the corners of her mind.

_Do you believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials?_

_That's why they put the I in F-B-I._

_Agent Mulder believes we are not alone--_

What the hell was she doing? If she had any sense at all, she'd march to Blevins's office tomorrow and demand a transfer somewhere else--anywhere else. The X-Files were a dead end. If she stayed in the basement with "Spooky" Mulder, she'd never achieve anything in the Bureau, except a reputation as Mrs. Spooky. Hell, a friend from the Academy had already said something over lunch the other day.

"So, Dana, did you and Spooky find Bigfoot yet?"

It had been a stupid joke; she had even laughed at the time. Now, inthe privacy of her own bathroom, it was starting to bother her. She had joined the Bureau to help people, to investigate crimes, to further justice. As much as she had wanted a field assignment-- anything to getout of the Quantico ghetto-- this was not going to work.

Scully quickly rinsed off her face, still avoiding her reflection. No, this wasn't going to work. It had to stop soon, before any damage was done. She would ask for a transfer for the sake of her career. 

There were other good reasons, too. She and Mulder were not exactly compatible. He was a mystic, she was a rationalist; he was intuitive, she was sensible. And that sneering, superior Yankee attitude of his was too much for a saint to bear, and Dana Scully was hardly a saint.

Then again, maybe they knew that. Maybe they had heard about Jack Willis or maybe they knew about Daniel Waterston. God, she didn't even want to imagine. It was humiliating to consider the only reason she had been chosen for this assignment was her tendency to fall on her back for men in charge-- and Mulder, though he was too polite to mention it, was in charge of this division.

"And this time," Scully said aloud to herself, "It didn't take nearly as long as usual."

Two mosquito bites, one hug, and those dark, soulful eyes. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She had sworn to herself after Jack that she would never get involved with a co-worker again. But what was resolve when the best-looking man Scully had seen in years was dangling right there in front of her? Especially when there had been that strange, almost flirtatious, almost combative chemistry between them? What was she going to do now?

"I'm going to ask for a transfer," she said aloud, looking around for her Oil of Olay. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to Blevins's office and asking for a transfer. It's not chickening out. I'm simply not suited for this job. And I'm not going to be a Mata Hari for the FBI, dammit! If they want Mulder back in ISU, they can make him transfer back!"

Scully slammed her fist into the porcelain sink and jerked her head up,catching her own stare directly in the mirror. But her own face wasn't looking back at her. Instead, a blonde woman looked out at her with a frightened spark in her eyes.

"Don't let your fear overtake you," she said urgently in hushed, strangely accented tones.

Scully gasped and rubbed her eyes. She looked again, and the blonde was still looking at her, whispering something frantically.

"Only unity can save you," the woman said. "Beware your distrust or you'll be lost in the hell of your own soul's creating."

"What on earth?" Scully whispered, reaching toward the image in the mirror. "Who are you? Where are you?"

The girl in the mirror didn't answer. Instead, Scully saw her own face again, wide-eyed and thoroughly unnerved by the hallucination. What on earth was that? A few weeks in the plausible state of Oregon and she saw strange women with cryptic messages talking to her from the mirror?

"All right, Dana," she muttered. "I know we're investigating the paranormal now, but that's no reason to live it."

Her reflection seemed to agree. Scully, after staring into the mirror for a long couple of minutes, trying to determine whether or not it was rigged, finally decided it was just stress. After taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she finished cleaning up, and walked into her bedroom, still confused about her career, her life, her new partner, and now this strange hallucination that didn't feel like a hallucination. Then again, they never do.

Forcing herself to be calm, cool, and collected, Scully pressed play on her tape deck and picked up the journal she had started keeping lately. As the soft strains of a strange, almost jazzy melody began to play, she picked up her pen and started writing.

_Journal Entry: March 27, 1992_

It's been a rough month.

Let me repeat that: IT'S BEEN A ROUGH MONTH!

Dear God, what has my life turned into? All I wanted was a job outside of Quantico, but do I get that? Hell no! I get assigned to the extremely good-looking and precociously psychotic Agent Mulder and before I can catch my breath, we're on our way to Oregon-- "the very plausible state of Oregon" and my life is turned upside down. I'm a scientist, dammit, not a sidekick. And I'm not impressed with this feeling I get that it doesn't matter if I'm a scientist or a circus animal, but that I'm on this assignment to seduce and destroy Fox Mulder. That alone is absolutely infuriating.

Then again-- I did have sex with him. Points go to the guys upstairs for figuring out our psychology so well. But I didn't have any agenda when I did it-- well, besides the agenda of having a mind-bending orgasm, but that's not what I mean. I am not playing anyone's game, butI don't know how anyone could believe that right now the way I played into their expectations.

What do I do now? What the hell do I do now? I'm sure it would be best if I asked for a transfer. I could prevent Mulder and myself from being hurt or used by-- anyone who would try to. (After all, who's using us? The FBI? Mulder's shadowy conspiracy folks? The military?) Dammit, I want to be part of the Bureau mainstream but in the field and not stuck in some basement. I also refuse to sleep my way to the top. I want the chance to prove myself, but not like this! I can't be a part of this, not in good conscience.

Mulder is a good person. He really and truly is. He doesn't deserve to be part of whatever game those men upstairs are playing. I don't want to be part of that. Mulder might be a bit strange, and even "spooky,"like everyone tells me, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be manipulated.

It's going to hurt him. I get assigned to him, I sleep with him, and then I say good-bye, nice meeting you, I'm going after a real career. He's going to think I used him. And how on earth can I convince him otherwise? Dammit all to hell, anyway.

So, to sum up-- this month (okay, three weeks, feels like a goddamn month) was a complete washout. And now tonight-- tonight something strange happened to me. I can't explain it. I'm not really one for hallucinations. That was always Missy's thing, not mine. I don't know how she came to me. It felt so real, though. And for a moment, I was afraid. _Maybe Laura came to warn me._ But about what?

Dana Scully stopped and read her last sentence. "Maybe Laura came to warn me" jumped out from the even, rounded handwriting, strangely capitalized and almost italicized. Who was Laura? But even before she finished asking the question, she knew that Laura had been the woman in the mirror. But how had she known that?

"God, what a month," Scully said, pushing the journal away from her, turning off the lights, and closing her eyes tight.

  
 

**March 27, 1992**

  
**Twin Peaks, Washington**  
 

The man who was still occasionally Dale Cooper drank a cup of the black coffee that used to bring him so much pleasure and shrugged. What he had seen in this coffee, he didn't know. It was black, bitter, and burnt his tongue more often than not.

"It's interesting, really, how we define pleasure," he said conversationally to the young woman sitting in the chair across from him. "It seems we can never really talk about it without discussing pain. Do you know what pain is?"

The woman sitting across from him didn't answer. Then again, she had a filthy gag in her mouth. Then again, she was dead and had been for at least an hour. All of these things didn't lend themselves to brisk conversation. Yet Dale Cooper continued to talk to her.

"Pain, at least in my opinion, is reality. It is both the absence of pleasure, which is a fleeting, transitory thing at best, and at worst a delusion, and the knowledge of the absence, which I find is the most terrible and wonderful thing about pain. Only when we know how empty reality is, that the only truth is more pain, do we truly understand human existence. Do you understand my meaning?"

The woman, a lock of curly blonde hair obscuring her face, still didn't answer. Cooper didn't really seem to notice. In fact, he was losing interest in her entirely as he heard something-- something strange.

"Something is coming," he said, his lips curling into a grotesque parody of his former smile. He looked back at the blonde. "I think that someone heard your screams after all."

He lifted his head again, trying to hear the noiseless sound.

"Yes, indeed," he said. "I hear them coming. Yes, indeed."


	3. Monday, March 30, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever you want too much, you can't have, so when you really want something, try wanting it a little less." --Joel Rosenberg

 

_[Note: This begins the official records of the reopened case in Twin Peaks. While there is some "unofficial" information added, it still informs and shapes the events as chronicled by Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI. --Eds.]_

**J. Edgar Hoover Building  
8:35 AM**

Scully took a nervous breath as she opened the door to Mulder's extremely messy office. Today, she had decided, was the day. She had the transfer forms in her briefcase. As soon as Mulder understood the situation, she would go up to Blevins's office and end this nightmare.

Of course, Mulder would be nowhere to be found on her day of destiny. Annoyed, Scully looked around for her soon to be ex-partner.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder's smarmy, teasing voice finally called from behind a filing cabinet. "Hope you're ready for more travel in the Great White North. We have a new case up there."

He was definitely not supposed to say that.

"Mulder, I--" Scully tried to say.

"Before you ask a lot of nit-picking questions, just listen," Mulder said, popping up like a manic jack-in-the-box. "It's not extra-terrestrials or Bigfoot or anything you can wrinkle your pretty little scientific nose at. This is a murder case-- a strange case, to be sure, but nothing that will worry your scientific sensibilities. At least not too much."

Scully, frustrated, sank into the one working chair in the office-- the other one wobbled too much to sit on-- and watched Mulder root around in old files, his face animated and his sleeves rolled up. One nice thing about Fox Mulder, he loved his work, which was more than most FBI agents could say.

"Anyway," he said, his voice muffled, "Have you ever heard of the Laura Palmer case?"

Scully, remembering her strange vision of the other night, blinked. Laura? That was a little strange. It had to be a coincidence because she'd never heard of the case, but it still didn't prevent a feeling of déjà vu.

"I can't say that I have," she confessed.

"Really? Got a lot of attention in ISU. Guess it was before your time," Mulder said nonchalantly, finding the file he was looking for and turning his attention to the waiting slide machine. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you please--"

"I get it, Mulder," Scully replied wryly. Mulder grinned rakishly at her, then turned on the projector. A young woman lying wrapped in plastic flashed onto the screen.

Scully's eyes widened. Except for the fact that she was dead, it was the same woman from Friday night, and Scully would swear on a stack of Bibles she'd never seen her before. This had just gone from coincidence to genuine weird.

"Who is she?" Scully asked, staring tensely at Laura, forcing herself to think of any circumstance where she could have encountered this case.

"This is Laura Palmer," Mulder said. "Homecoming Queen of the small, quiet town of Twin Peaks, Washington. She turned up dead just over three years ago. It tore the town apart, especially as they discovered she was not precisely the girl they thought she was."

"Meaning?"

"The homecoming queen was a promiscuous drug addict," Mulder replied. "Not to mention a victim of child abuse, sexual exploitation, and according to the agent on the case, a demon named BOB."

Scully's eyebrow almost went up. But considering she still hadn't figured out her connection to Laura Palmer, she decided to stay calm and give Mulder the benefit of the doubt about Demon BOB.

"A demon named BOB? Did you investigate this case, Mulder?" she still couldn't help asking.

"No, I didn't, as a matter of fact," Mulder replied. "I hadn't discovered the X-Files at that point, and even if I had, this case wasn't an X-File. It was a murder-- even if they did send out a guy spookier than I am."

"That is?"

CLICK! The slide moved forward to a slick-haired, rather attractive young man, smiling hurriedly at the camera. "Special Agent Dale Cooper, FBI. Coop was always something of an oddball to the boys upstairs. He believed in some esoteric Tibetan stuff I don't understand too well. But hey, it worked for him. He was a good agent and he had a connection to the very first of these murders back in 1988. So they sent him to Washington."

"What happened to him?" Scully asked. "And what about Laura Palmer? Who killed her? This demon?"

Mulder grinned at her. "Oh, that's the fascinating part, Scully," he said. "After about two weeks, Agent Cooper sent news to DC that Laura Palmer had been killed by her father, Leland Palmer-- who as it turns out was also sexually abusing her. So the FBI closes the case, right? But Cooper can't leave immediately-- he had been shot, implicated in a drug deal, and there were still a few loose ends hanging about, bits and pieces of the secret life of Laura Palmer, not to mention a few random murders. But then the Bureau gets new information about the case. According to Cooper, Leland didn't kill Laura-- well, he did, except that he had been possessed when he did it."

"By this BOB?" Scully suggested dryly.

"Exactly. Of course the Bureau, being the scientific, rational people they are, decided that Cooper had been dabbling a little too much in Tibetan mysticism and stuck all his new information, along with the closed file on Laura Palmer, down here. And three years ago today, Cooper resigns the FBI. No reason, no notice, doesn't give a damn about anything else. No one I know has heard from him since. Really very interesting, considering he was a dedicated agent. Almost makes you wonder--"

Scully nodded, trying to hide the shivers of fear that were rolling around in her stomach. "So where do we come in now?"

"Another young woman is dead," Mulder said, advancing the slide machine. "This is Penelope Larson, who is actually not a Twin Peaks resident, but is from Pearl Lakes, two towns over. They found her body late Saturday night and they called the Bureau yesterday. Her death fits in the same pattern as Laura Palmer and of another young woman, Teresa Banks, who died the year before Laura. They were all found dead--"

"Wrapped in plastic," Scully said, her voice sounding lost. "In other words, we have a copycat. Who do you think did it, Mulder? I'm detecting from the tone of your voice you suspect the stalwart Agent Cooper?"

"Maybe I do," Mulder said lazily. "That's if he is Agent Cooper at all. There's something about these tapes and reports as they go along that aren't quite right. Besides, Cooper was a straight arrow, a Bureau man through and through. It caused quite a stir around here when he resigned. I wouldn't like it at all, but you may be on to something."

Mulder paused and looked at Scully. "What do you think? Our flight leaves at eleven for Seattle and then it's off to the very bizarre little town of Twin Peaks."

Scully stared at him. She was very aware of the transfer form in her briefcase and she had a sneaking suspicion that Mulder was too. But this case looked challenging, to say nothing of the fact that Laura Palmer had turned up in her hallucination two days ago. Even as a scientist, she had to admit something very weird was going on.

"Of course," she said weakly. "I'll meet you at the airport."

Mulder smiled at her again. "Great," he said. "Hey-- are you okay? You look a little tense."

"I'm fine," Scully lied. "I just haven't slept well lately."

"All right, then," Mulder replied. "See you at the airport."

With that, Scully stood up and left the dark, unpleasant little basement office, cursing herself silently as a coward. By the time she reached her car, though, she was promising herself this would be the last case. She'd tell him on the plane.

"Yeah," she muttered, tossing her briefcase on the seat next to her. "Right."

 

**Double R Cafe  
3:40 PM**

"It's a terrible thing," Shelly Briggs said, pouring another cup of coffee. "That poor girl. And it's awful-- just like Laura. It's as if someone doesn't want the past to rest."

"Shh, Shelly," Norma replied. "I'm sure that whoever's done this will be caught soon. Sheriff Truman has already called in the FBI."

"I know," Shelly said. "But why would anyone do something like that? Think of what Laura's death did to this town, and to An--"

"I said to be quiet, Shelly," Norma said firmly. "Now why don't you go make sure there are enough clean dishes and if not, get one of the boys back there to wash more."

"All right," Shelly said, walking toward the back. Norma breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't handle any more talk about the death of that girl. It was too much to think about, too painful considering that Penelope reminded her, not really of Laura Palmer, but of her sister, who had become a stranger in the last three years. Every time Norma saw her sister, she seemed less alive, more faded, a haunted person.

It had almost been a surprise to Norma that the dead blonde had been this Penelope Larson and not Annie. For three years she had waited, watching as Annie got more and more distant and fearful, and as Dale Cooper thrived like the green bay tree.

"Hey, hey, Norma, turn that frown upside down!" Bobby called out, breaking into her sad reverie. Norma shook her head and looked up at Bobby. Ever since he had married Shelly, Bobby Briggs had become the happiest person Norma knew. He had stopped selling drugs, smoking cigarettes, everything. It was a miracle of sorts.

"Hey there, Bobby," Norma said. "Are you looking for Shelly?"

He smiled. "Oh, I don't know. Only if you won't run away with me," he teased.

"I don't think Big Ed or Shelly would like that. We'd probably have to run pretty far."

"I've got a fast car," Bobby replied blithely. "We could be halfway to Mexico before they realized--"

"Realized what, Bobby Briggs?" Shelly asked, hands placed firmly on hips.

"They realized that we were on our way back to Twin Peaks to get you, of course," Bobby replied. "How's my girl?"

"Still on her shift for twenty more minutes, thank you," Shelly replied. "Why don't you sit down or wait outside, Bobby?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bobby said, sliding into a booth. "Can you get me some cherry pie?"

Shelly snorted and went to get her husband a piece of pie. The door to the Double R opened, and a tall, austere woman, carrying a log, entered the diner. Nobody paid her the least notice. They were all used to her.

"Good afternoon, Margaret," Norma said. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Yes, two cups. One for me, and one for the deceased soul of that young woman," the Log Lady replied solemnly. Noticing Bobby smiling, she gave him a disapproving glance. "Do you think it's funny, young man, that the evil is rising again?"

"Excuse me?"

"The death of this young woman Penelope is a great evil for us all," the Log Lady said, sitting down across from him. "It's happening again."

"What's happening?" Bobby asked.

"The darkness is roaming loose again," the Log Lady told him. "My log heard it in the air, but I could not believe it. Can't you feel the darkness? It seeks to consume souls--"

There was a sudden crash of dishware. Everyone in the Double R, who had been listening to the Log Lady, turned their heads to see Norma, holding the saucer for one of the cups of coffee. Everything else-- cups, saucer, coffee-- lay on the floor in shards. Norma's face was extraordinarily pale, and her hands were shaking.

Bobby was the first to jump to his feet. "Let me help you clean that up, Norma," he said hastily. "Why don't you just sit down for a second and this'll all be out of the way in no time?"

Norma's lips were trembling, and her eyes were focused on the Log Lady, in something that was almost anger and almost horror. The other woman looked up at the lovely blonde and shook her head as Bobby started to clean up the mess.

"You know, too, don't you?" the Log Lady asked. "It's coming for us all-- my log heard it in the cry of the owls. Where did you hear the howl of the demon?"

Bobby, hands full of broken dish, sighed. Nothing like mystical old coots to complicate an afternoon. "Shelly, honey?" he yelled toward his wife. "Can you get me a broom?"

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
7:30 PM**

"Two rooms, please," Fox Mulder told the bell clerk. "Adjoining rooms, if that's possible. We may have a reservation."

"Yes, sir. What name will that be under, then?"

"One for Fox Mulder, the other for Dana Scully, both of which are billable to the FBI," Mulder said. The bell clerk blinked.

"Oh!" he said, with dawning understanding. "You're the FBI agents?"

"Yes," Mulder said simply. "Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my partner, Dr. Dana Scully."

He had remembered her title. Scully barely stifled a grin. It was nice when he did that. The plane ride to Seattle had been strange. Mulder had persisted in playing footsy while she read dossiers about the history of this case-- fascinating reading, to be sure, but not particularly erotic. Whoever or whatever BOB was, he had at least three dead young women to his credit, including the mysterious Laura Palmer, whose photos had managed to unnerve Scully throughout the flight.

But even with all the macabre reading, Mulder's smiles, his very subtle game of seduction, and his occasional suggestive comments had left Scully feeling almost giddy when they'd gotten off the plane. The car ride had been even more erotically charged and Scully was almost as surprised as the desk clerk they were checking into separate rooms.

"Yes, sir. We already have your rooms waiting," the bell clerk said. "Ms. Horne was informed earlier today you'd need them."

"Ms. Horne?" Scully asked.

"She runs the hotel," the bell clerk said. "She has also requested that you speak to her immediately in her private suite."

"About what?" Mulder asked.

"I'm not sure, Agent Mulder," he replied. "Ms. Horne keeps her own counsel. If you would follow me, the staff will make sure your luggage gets to the right suites."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Mulder shrugged. "All right," he said. "Show us the way."

As they walked to Ms. Horne's private suite Mulder dropped back beside Scully with a quizzical look in his eye. "What do you think of this place, Scully?"

"Atmospheric," Scully replied.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Mulder said. "This place doesn't give you the creeps?"

"Not really," Scully said. "It's nostalgic. Very woodsy. I think I kind of like it."

The bell clerk stopped at a door. It didn't look different from any of the others with the number 119 gleaming brightly and the dark wood finish. He knocked quickly.

A muffled voice answered incomprehensibly.

"It's Dutreuil, ma'am," the bell clerk said. "The FBI agents are here."

After a pause, the door swung open slowly. "Thank you, Dutreuil," a surprisingly young female voice said. "I appreciate the help."

"Of course, Ms. Horne," Dutreuil said. Turning to Mulder and Scully, the bell clerk nodded and walked away. Mulder and Scully, both surprised by the quick departure, looked at each other, shrugged, and walked into the suite.

It was a simple office with a large desk, some filing cabinets, a bookshelf, and even a computer sitting in the corner. There was also a fire in the fireplace, where Ms. Horne sat in an old-fashioned wheelchair across from two empty wing chairs.

Scully's eyes discreetly surveyed the young woman's profile. She was stunning. Dark hair curled prettily around her face, which was pale and beautiful, reminding Scully a little of the 1940's movie stars her own mother was so fond of. But all of the beauty didn't stop Scully noting a few scars-- not disfiguring, but certainly jarring-- running across Ms. Horne's jawline and hands.

"Please sit down," the young woman said in a weary, but beguiling voice. "I'm sure you've had a long trip today. Would you like something to eat?"

"We're fine," Mulder assured her, sitting down and smiling. Scully, very aware of Ms. Horne's beauty and knockout charm, bit her lip. She had no right to be the least bit jealous, but she couldn't help but notice Mulder definitely approved of the young woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Horne."

"Please call me Audrey," the woman replied in the same smooth voice. "Ms. Horne makes me feel too ancient, and I already feel strange enough with this wheelchair."

"I'm very sorry," Scully said, interrupting. "The bell clerk said you wanted to see us? Are you all right?"

"Oh, it's okay," Audrey said softly, managing not to sound self-pitying at all. "I was paralyzed in an act of civil disobedience. I'm lucky to be alive. I miss it, though. Weirdest thing that ever happened to me. I was chained to the vault door and then the bomb went off. The blast severed one of the chains holding me to the door and I was caught in the debris. I did better than everyone else in the bank, I'm afraid--"

Her voice trailed off, and her lovely blue eyes were lost in thought, staring into the firelight. Mulder gawked at her for a moment while Scully surveyed her more critically. Audrey shook her head, suddenly coming out of her memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot all about being polite," she said suddenly, flashing a bright smile at the two FBI agents. "Hello, I'm Audrey Horne. I run the Great Northern Hotel here in Twin Peaks. What are your names?"

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder said. "A pleasure to meet you, Audrey."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Agent Mulder," Audrey said, flashing another grin. Then she looked over at Scully. "And you?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully added. "Nice to meet you, too."

"You're here because of Penelope Larson," Audrey said, her smile fading into a contemplative expression. "It's a great tragedy, of course."

"But?" Scully asked, arching an eyebrow.

"You're not going to find anything that really helps," Audrey said. "Whoever killed Penelope will get away with it and all it will get you is a lot of heartache. If I were you I'd get out of town as soon as possible. It's not worth it."

"What do you know about Penelope's murder, Audrey?" Mulder asked gently. "Did you see anything?"

"I didn't have to be there," Audrey replied. "I was here when Agent Cooper investigated Laura Palmer's murder. It was the worst thing that ever happened to this town. We found out things that should have never seen the light of day. When we discovered Leland killed Laura and then Madeleine Ferguson, we thought the worst was over. But now it seems like it's happening all over again. I don't want any more sorrow in this town for my friends or my family."

"Is that a threat, Ms. Horne?" Scully asked coldly.

"No, Agent Scully," Audrey said, leaning back smoothly. "It's a promise. If you tear this town apart with your investigation, you will find as much pain in it for yourself as for everyone else."

Scully regarded her emotionlessly. "Is that all, Ms. Horne?"

"I believe it is," Audrey replied. "Good evening, agents. I hope you enjoy the Great Northern."

With that, she turned her head and her wheelchair and left them in silence.

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
11:27 PM**

Mulder was right, Scully decided as she looked over the Laura Palmer file for the eighth or ninth time. This place was somewhat creepy. Maybe it was the woods around it, maybe it was the shadows on the walls and maybe it was just the sound of the owls. But all she wanted was to curl up under a blanket and forget that tomorrow she was going to have to do an autopsy on Penelope Larson. Sighing, she looked down at the file again, where Laura Palmer's blue-lipped face waited, maybe forever.

"How do I know you?" Scully murmured, looking at the face. "Hmm?"

There was a sudden knock on the door. Scully jumped about three feet. "Who is it?"

"George Lucas," Mulder called back. Scully, with a sigh of relief, took a deep breath and let her partner in. He greeted her, rather unexpectedly considering they were working, with a long, slow kiss. Scully almost pulled back, but decided to forget the repercussions-- just for tonight.

"Mmm, and good evening to you, too, Agent Mulder," she whispered in his ear as Mulder kicked the door shut behind them. "How are you?"

"I can't sleep," Mulder replied, pausing just long enough kiss her again. "I thought maybe I needed to get some exercise."

"That's hardly flattering, Agent Mulder," Scully replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Why didn't you go run instead?"

Mulder pretended to look abashed. "I guess my secret's out," he admitted, walking them over to the bed. "I'm afraid that BOB will get me, Scully. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Scully, finding herself sitting on the bed all of the sudden, tried to look thoughtful as Mulder nuzzled her neck. "I don't know, Agent Mulder. You're awfully old to be afraid of BOB," she said. "Besides, you're the man, aren't you? Shouldn't you be protecting me from demons and ghosts?"

"Good idea," Mulder said. "But that requires me to sleep here tonight as well. You don't mind, do you?"

"It is against FBI policy--" Scully began. Mulder's lower lip began to stick out in the most attractive pout. Without a word, she snatched it between her own lips and slowly rolled it back and forth, kneading his shoulders sensuously as he lowered her back onto the bed. She broke the kiss and whispered mischievously, "But I won't tell if you don't."

"I'm not saying a word," Mulder replied, kissing her cheek. "Are you saying a word?"

"Not me," Scully replied, removing her oversized t-shirt and pulling Mulder down to her. "Not one single word--"

 


	4. Tuesday, March 31, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let no one be mistaken. I only achieve simplicity with enormous effort." --Clarice Lispector

 

**Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office  
9:00 AM**

There were dozens of doughnuts laid out in neat, almost decadent rows on the conference tables. Mulder's eyes almost bulged when he saw them. It had to be illegal to have that many doughnuts in one place. Then again, the sheriff and his two deputies were already making inroads on them when Mulder and Scully finally entered the small conference room.

"Good morning," one of them said, getting to his feet and nodding. "Sheriff Harry Truman."

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder replied, flashing his badge. There was an awkward silence as Harry looked Mulder over. Scully kept looking around the room and at Mulder. Both of the deputies looked at Mulder as though he were someone else, then toward the sheriff, then back at Mulder again.

"I could have sworn," one of them muttered.

"What?" Mulder asked.

"You look like someone I saw here before, but I can't place you," he said. "Hawk, Harry, doesn't he look like someone else?"

The other deputy cocked his head. "Andy, you may be right," he said. "Maybe it's just me, but I think you're right."

The deputy and Harry exchanged a knowing glance. Scully stifled a grin as Mulder tried to answer the question without getting too flustered. He wasn't doing too well.

"Well, Deputy, I've never been here in Twin Peaks before, so you must be thinking of someone else," Mulder said. "At least, as far as I know."

Harry and Scully exchanged a glance, and grinned at each other. Straightening his face, he turned toward Scully, and asked with studied innocence, "And you would be?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully," Scully answered, hiding her grin as Mulder and the deputy tried not to look at each other. "And your deputies, Sheriff?"

"Of course," Harry said. "This is Deputy Hawk, and the one wondering about your partner, that's Andy."

Hawk nodded smoothly, and Andy tried to smile. A small beeping noise suddenly went off in the room. Andy looked down.

"Oooh! Excuse me, everyone," he said, standing up and hurrying out of the room. Harry smiled.

"He's on baby duty this week. You'll have to excuse him," the sheriff explained. "You're here about the Penelope Larson murder. Please, sit down. Have a doughnut. They're fresh."

Mulder and Scully sat, and Scully noticed Mulder grabbed a chocolate long john without any further invitation.

"Well, first things first," Harry said. "I assume that you've read the case history." Mulder nodded and Harry continued. "I hate to admit it, but this case has us at a loss. Penelope Larson wasn't connected at all to this case or anything involving the investigation. We've tried to find a connection, but so far the choice of victim seems random."

"Has an autopsy been done?" Scully asked. "I'm a forensic pathologist, it would be no problem."

"An autopsy hasn't been done yet. Doc Hayward did a preliminary exam because of the time factor, but they told us one of you was a pathologist, ma'am," Harry said, looking at Scully carefully. She could almost hear the question in his voice. Who let this little lady into forensic pathology? She decided that she was going to head off questions before this hulking cowboy could get them out.

"I got my M.D. at Georgetown," Scully replied snippily. "Top of my class. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't doubt it, ma'am. No offense meant," Truman replied. Scully bit her tongue. She was too good at being suspicious. These people had just been hit with another gruesome ritual murder and despite the Bureau's efforts in 1989 and the closing of the case, there was still a dead body. And considering their lead suspect was FBI--

Mulder stepped in to cover Scully's sudden silence. "What can you tell us about your suspects?"

"That's assuming we have suspects right now, Agent Mulder," Harry said.

"Do we?" Mulder asked. "I thought--"

Harry shook his head. "Frankly, Agent Mulder, we don't have any concrete leads. We have wild suspicions and conjecture and a list of the usual suspects, but nothing we think is truly likely."

"Isn't Dale Cooper a suspect?" Scully asked. The men all looked at her with surprise.

"Agent Cooper?" Harry asked. "Are you serious?"

"He was the head investigator on this case," Scully said. "He had to deal with the stresses of the crimes, and when he left the Bureau--" If Cooper hadn't done this, it was going to be well nigh impossible to find the killer.

"Dale Cooper is a good man," Harry said evenly. "If you suspect him because he left the FBI, well, you can just park your suspicions at the door, Agent."

"It's not because he left the FBI," Scully protested. "These things fit a profile--"

Harry shook his head emphatically. "I don't know if you've read much about this case or this town, Agent Scully, but the only way to handle this case was strangely. Coop might not have been by the book but he was honest and one of the best investigators I've been privileged to work with. Coop didn't kill this girl."

Scully bit her lip and nodded. Mulder took up Scully's line of questioning calmly.

"All right," Mulder said. "So do you have any suspects at all?"

"Anyone I have any evidence against? No," Harry replied. "As I said at this point it's all conjecture and guesswork and very little for us to go further on."

Mulder nodded grimly. "I guess we have our work cut out for us, then."

"You have no idea, Agent Mulder," Harry replied. "This isn't a simple case. Even if we had a human suspect, there's still the supernatural element to be looked into."

At Scully's disapproving glare, Harry added, "You understand that the supernatural element is probably vital to the case, right? We won't get anywhere if you don't understand that."

"We do understand, Sheriff," Mulder assured him. "My partner may be somewhat skeptical, but we both understand that Leland Palmer was possessed."

Scully sighed. She tried not to listen to Mulder and Truman guardedly discussing BOB and the entire dark history of the town. Instead, she stared out the window thinking about who in this town could possibly be a suspect in the murder. Most of the original players in Laura Palmer's death were dead, incapacitated, or reformed. Who would do this? It just didn't make sense.

"Agent Scully?" Harry asked. "Are you ready to do the autopsy today?"

Jarred, Scully turned and blinked at him. "I--" she said. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I'm ready to do the autopsy right now."

"That's good," Harry said. "Penelope Larson's family is planning the funeral for Wednesday, so the sooner the better."

"Of course," Scully said. "No problem. No problem at all."

 

**Dale Cooper's House  
11:35 AM**

It was another beautiful day in Twin Peaks, and Annie Blackburn was wishing, not for the first time, that she was dead or anywhere else, even back in the convent. But she couldn't leave. She had a duty to do here and no matter how unpleasant it was she had to keep doing it.

Carefully, she opened the door to her home and looked around. The house looked empty, but with Cooper you could never tell for sure.

"Dale?" Annie called. "Dale, are you here?"

"Dale's not home. Leave a message and he may answer, he may not," Cooper replied. He stepped out of the study where he'd been working on-- something. Annie shivered. He had that look in his eye again. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"I didn't see your car when I came in. I thought maybe you went for coffee," Annie said, her voice trailing off. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to devise a method to catch Penelope Larson's killer," Cooper replied, smiling at her. Annie hid her shiver. It was the sincerity of his voice that was the worst. He could truly say that without lying. "This crime is deplorable. That someone would copycat a killing--"

Annie bit her lip. Finally, she found something suitably innocuous to say. "It's horrible. Do you have any ideas who did it?"

"Not yet," Cooper replied. "But I believe that this is the cry of a tortured soul, Annie, someone whose inner darkness overwhelmed him."

"I'm sure you're right," Annie said faintly. "Did you hear the FBI sent out agents to look into the case?"

"I hadn't, but I'm not surprised," Cooper replied. "I should meet with them. Maybe they're old acquaintances of mine. I knew a lot of good people in the Bureau."

"I saw one of them going to the hospital to do an autopsy on the body. She was really pretty," Annie said. "Really young, too."

Dale Cooper nodded seriously. For a moment, he looked like the man Annie had fallen in love with instead of a bad knock-off-- earnest, kind, diligent. And then he smiled at her. Annie stood still and prayed. But he wasn't moving-- this time. He was just talking.

"Don't worry, Annie," he said. "I'm sure everything will turn out just dandy. Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?"

 

**Double R Cafe  
6:16 PM**

It was as if time had literally stopped back in about 1955, Scully thought as she surveyed the quaint little diner Mulder had told her to meet him at. The entire place screamed atmosphere with that undercurrent of creepy that Scully had found so pervasive in the town of Twin Peaks.

"Good evening, miss, welcome to the Double R," a lovely middle-aged woman said, smiling at her. "Would you like something?"

"I'm actually looking for my partner," Scully said, trying to be pleasant. "He's a taller man, dark hair?"

"You mean Mr. Mulder?" Norma said. Scully nodded. "Oh, he's here. I think he just stepped out to the little boy's room. You must be Agent Scully. I'm Norma Hurley. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Scully said with a smile. "This is a wonderful diner you have here, Norma."

"Thank you," Norma said. "Oh, look, there he is. You have a good evening, Agent Scully."

"Thank you," Scully said, walking over to Mulder. He was grinning like a kid in a candy store, which was quite annoying. "So, how was your day?"

"Remarkably unproductive," Mulder replied with a grin. "Sit down, Scully, and order the meatloaf and the cherry pie. It'll be the best meal of your life. I'm not kidding. No wonder Dale Cooper moved here. The food alone is heaven, and the fresh air--"

"Mulder, I just spent six hours in the basement doing an autopsy," Scully murmured. "If there's any fresh air here, I haven't had time to smell it. Can we sit down?"

Mulder nodded, too cheerfully to be believed, and sat them down in a little booth. Another pretty blonde walked up to them. Scully sighed. Did they have any ugly women in this town?

"What will you two have?" the waitress asked. "Hey, Agent Mulder. Are you back _again?_ "

"More meatloaf, Shelly, another slice of that fantastic cherry pie and another cup of coffee," Mulder said with a smile.

"Coming right up, Agent Mulder," Shelly said. "And for your lady friend?"

"Can I just start with a cup of coffee, lots of cream, lots of sugar?" Scully asked.

"Sure thing," Shelly replied, hurrying away. Mulder looked at Scully and smiled again. Scully was almost impressed. For someone who had a remarkably unproductive day, Mulder was far too happy.

"What did you discover in the autopsy?" Mulder asked.

"I don't think this is the place," Scully replied. "Let's just say the results were interesting and leave it at that. Why was your day so unproductive?"

"Let's just say that we're gonna be here a while with what we have here," Mulder replied as Shelly returned with coffee. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Agent Mulder. So how do you two like Twin Peaks so far?" Shelly asked.

"It's a great town," Mulder said. "With great food."

Scully, unimpressed with Mulder's flirting, took her cup of coffee and sipped at it. She had to pause and blink after her first taste.

"Wow," she said, smiling. "Wow."

"Told you so," Mulder said. "Get this lady some meatloaf and a slice of pie."

"Of course, Agent Mulder," Shelly replied, walking away again.

The door banged open and Scully, who despite the good coffee was still not in the best of moods, jerked her head over to see who had entered the Double R. Her eyes widened, and she almost made the sign of the cross.

"Annie! Dale--" Norma said. Scully noticed Norma wasn't very fond of Dale, either.

"Norma, how good to see you," Dale Cooper said. His eyes searched the room and stopped the minute he noticed Mulder and Scully. A strange half-grin crossed his face. Scully's stomach did a flip-flop. She didn't care if the Pope himself gave Dale Cooper a testimonial, there was something not quite right about the man. "Would you excuse me for a minute, ladies?"

"Of course, Dale," Norma said. Annie took a deep breath. The FBI agents were both so young, and so clearly involved. Would that make it easier or harder for Dale-- or what she was calling Dale-- to prey on them? Especially considering the woman was looking at Cooper so intensely?

Cooper, still smiling like a crocodile, walked over to Mulder and Scully's booth. He extended his hand to the agents.

"I hate to intrude, but I can recognize Bureau folks a mile away. Hi, Dale Cooper," he said. Mulder took Cooper's hand and shook it.

"Fox Mulder," Mulder replied. "I've heard a lot about you, Cooper."

"Mulder? The Fox Mulder? Aren't you the golden boy of ISU? Patterson's darling?" Cooper asked. Mulder looked a little embarrassed. "How is the old man?"

"I don't know," Mulder said smoothly. "I transferred out of ISU a while back. I'm working on a different project now."

"Are you?" Cooper said cheerfully. "What's that?"

"Files the FBI usually consigns to the garbage can, focused mostly on the paranormal, known as the X-Files. From what I hear, it's right up your alley."

Cooper nodded thoughtfully. "What a wonderful idea. I would have loved to work on cases like that. I'm assuming you two are experts on the subject-- though I don't see the connection with this case."

"What about BOB?" Scully asked quietly. Cooper's eyes widened slightly. "You mentioned him in your reports to the Bureau."

"I'm sorry," Cooper stammered, clearly unnerved. "I don't believe we've introduced ourselves yet. Dale Cooper."

"Dana Scully," she said icily.

"Nice to meet you. I hear you're an MD."

"Forensic pathology," Scully replied. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Anything interesting in the autopsy on Penelope Larson?" Cooper asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Scully shrugged.

"I'm afraid that this isn't the proper locale for such discussions, Cooper," she replied smoothly. "This being official police business, you understand."

"Of course," Cooper said. "I'm a little rusty on procedure these days. But I am very interested in this case and I'm more than willing to help. So please keep in touch."

"Certainly," Mulder said. "I'd be fascinated to hear your insights on the matter."

"Wonderful," Cooper said, standing and clapping Mulder on the shoulder. "Wonderful. Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your dinner."

"Thank you," Mulder said. Scully smiled dutifully as the man walked away. Her pulse was racing and she could feel her foot tapping the floor as she took angry gulps of coffee. Mulder looked at his partner and smiled. "I thought he was pleasant, Scully-- didn't you?"

"Uh-huh," Scully replied, eyes focused on the back of Cooper's head. "Yeah."

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
11:47 PM**

Even with Mulder's comforting presence in her bed, Scully wasn't sleeping well. There was something that she couldn't shake, something more than her suspicion about Dale Cooper, something more than even her vision of Laura. She was genuinely afraid of falling asleep, and kept tossing and turning, taking time to stare up at the ceiling in the meantime.

Penelope Larson had been completely unconnected to the Laura Palmer murders. There was no sign of rape, no sign of drug abuse, nothing. Penelope Larson just happened to be a blonde eighteen-year-old girl. Maybe it was unconnected to the larger case-- just a copycat of the Palmer murder. But if that was so, why not kill Penelope on the anniversary of Laura's murder? Why wait until the 27th, the night that Agent Cooper and Annie Blackburne escaped from this "Black Lodge"-- whatever that was? From Dr. Hayward's exam and Scully's own findings, it was clear Penelope Larson had been killed that night, even if she had been found later the next day. Someone had meant to send a message-- but what? And who?

Scully sighed, and turned over again. Finally, too tired to keep her eyes open, she fell asleep--

 

"Hey there, Yogi Bear!" someone called.

Scully opened her eyes. She wasn't precisely in bed. In fact, she had no idea where she was, except that she was sitting up and the world was strangely dark--

"Are you afraid of the darkness or are you afraid of the truth within you?" a voice with a southern drawl asked. "Why are you afraid to believe?"

Scully wanted to say something, maybe just that she wasn't afraid, but the room changed again, melting into wax--

"You shine like a candle and burn men like moths," Dale Cooper said, smiling. He stood over a bed and his eyes were wrong somehow. "Do you like the pretty forms their corpses make, all slain for you? The slaughter of innocents by an innocent, burning like a holy fire. Are you still burning? What light do you give the world?"

She was lost in this world, paralyzed and voiceless. If she could have screamed, she would have.

"Don't be afraid!" the first voice called. It was somehow familiar, and Scully tried to see her, the woman with the lilting, little-girl voice. Where did she know that voice? "I was afraid. I let the darkness swallow me. Don't let it happen to you."

There was no sense in the motion, only an ominous promise of something. Flashes of scenes-- blood on a white cross, hanging in the air-- a white light and a terrifying face, crying, "They ain't gonna take Duane Barry-- not this time--" blood on the hardwood floor and a death mask that could be her own but seemed to swirl and become another's-- flash-- flash-- flash--

"I am the darkness and the desire," someone intoned. "Take me and you will know the true circle, the true life--"

Then it was all darkness. And then--

Strange, almost syncopated music filled the air. Two women, mirror images of each other except one was blonde and the other was brunette, sat on a couch. They smiled at Scully, who realized they were both Laura-- Laura again, multiplied by the nightmare-vision.

Between them sat a giant. He smiled at Scully and made a gesture with his hands, turning the palms upwards and nodding at her.

"The truth is easy to see, but hard to understand," he said. "I know three things that you must know."

Laura smiled confidently at Scully, who found herself finally able to move and to smile back. It wasn't any more comforting than being paralyzed. The giant began speaking.

"First, that this has happened before and will happen again and that the now is your only concern."

"What's happening now?" Scully asked. "I don't understand!"

The brunette Laura-- Maddy Ferguson? Scully had almost forgotten about the dead identical cousin-- shook her head and tapped her nose.

"You know what's happening. You just have to believe it," Maddy said, her voice strangely jerky. The giant began speaking again, looking down at Scully.

"Second, that the father who is not your father will point your way and that you must not fear it."

This was a dream; it had to be. The logic had that strange, intuitively correct feeling, Scully realized. It wasn't clear or reasonable on the surface-- it had to be analyzed to yield meaning. But even if it were just a dream, this was important. She looked around the room, memorizing the way it looked, the way it felt.

"Third, that you must know your own desire."

Laura laughed. Her grin was almost shark-like, and she began to get hysterical, standing up and looking around the room. There were no windows. For some reason, Scully didn't like that. Why weren't there any windows?

Then Laura started to dance, rhythmlessly, jerking to the music. Madeleine looked at Scully, raising a finger to her lips.

"Two is just one looked at in a different way," she finally said.

Scully wanted to say something-- anything that would explain what Madeleine had just told her-- but then Laura, in a sudden jerky move, pirouetted right into Scully, chanting something, and she, stunned and out of breath--

 

Woke up, next to a snoring Mulder. Scully gasped again, feeling around to make sure she was there and not still dreaming. She laid down, noticing that Mulder had stolen most of the covers and the hair on her arms was standing on end.

"Okay," she muttered herself while she tugged at the covers. "That was not just weird, it was downright apocalyptic..."

 


	5. Wednesday, April 1, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We are here and it is now. Further than that, all human knowledge is moonshine." --H.L. Mencken

**Great Northern Hotel  
7:30 AM**

Audrey Horne, like her father before her, was loved and feared by the staff of her hotel. They never knew when she'd burst into the kitchens or on the maids, demanding ridiculous things like more spice in the fried eggs or linens so white they would blind a guest. It made working at the Great Northern exhausting and entertaining.

This morning, Audrey had demanded a special breakfast for four. Dutreuil, who knew her schedule better than she did, was completely taken off guard by the request. Audrey rarely ate with others, and when she did, Dutreuil knew whom, when, and why.

"Miss Horne wants pancakes! Lots and lots of pancakes!" the head chef cried as Dutreuil walked into the room. "Here, for Miss Horne and her guests. They're waiting for them."

"Excuse me?" Dutreuil asked.

"Mr. Horne is home from Montreal and he has a brand-new flour that makes the best pancakes he ever tasted," the chef said. "He insisted we make pancakes this morning and then Miss Horne invited those FBI people to breakfast and-- take the tray! The eggs will get cold. We'll send the rest as soon as it's ready."

"All right, all right," Dutreuil said, walking out with the tray of eggs. It smelled vile, and there was no doubt Jerry Horne had found this brand new delicacy to spring on his niece and her guests. Grimacing, Dutreuil walked to Audrey's suite and knocked.

"Breakfast!" Jerry cried, throwing open the door. "Oooh, and from the smell of it, these are my specially poached duck eggs marinated in eel sauce. The Quebecois eat them like candy. How are the pancakes coming along?"

"I was told they'd be sent here when they were done," Dutreuil replied. He looked into the room. The two FBI agents and Audrey were sitting around a dining table. The male agent was laughing heartily and Audrey was grinning like a champion.

"Thanks, Diptree," Jerry said, snatching the tray. "We'll call if we need you."

He shut the door on the surprised clerk, and presented the tray to his niece and her new friends.

"Look, look, look what I brought home from Montreal. Though the real prize is the flour I found in Japan. It's a strange variant of rice flour-- I can't go into the details, but it makes **great**  pancakes," Jerry gushed. "They've got this great show there. Champion chefs go at it, kind of battling it out in a Kitchen Stadium-- American Gladiators meets Julia Child, and mm! The food is exquisite." Jerry lifted the cover off the tray and presented it to the group. " _Ryori no Tetsujin_ , I think it's called."

Scully looked at the eggs, which looked like nothing she'd ever seen called food, and tried not to grimace. To her surprise, both Mulder and Audrey took one and Audrey immediately took a large bite. Jerry beamed like a proud mother.

"Aren't they exquisite? The secret is that the eels, before they're made into marinade, are cooked on top of a beef steak seasoned with pepper and lemon and coriander, and then the drippings that gives off are used in the brine that helps turn the eels into the marinade, which the eggs are then introduced into," Jerry said enthusiastically. "Try one, Agent Scully."

Audrey, having swallowed her bite of egg, smiled brightly. "They're yummy. Don't you think so, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder, who'd also eaten some of the delicacy, swallowed slowly and paused a moment. "Wow. That was delicious. Try one, Scully."

But before Scully could sample one of the well-marinated eggs, the door swung open again and three hotel waiters came in, bearing a steaming tray of pancakes, and another full of syrups, butter, toast, powder sugar, juice, and coffee.

"Excellent!" Jerry cried. "If you think the eggs are good, wait until you try these pancakes. They'll knock your socks off."

Scully, eyes round and a little fearful of Jerry's frantic joy over food, nodded primly and got a plate. She quickly discovered she had no need to worry. The pancakes were even better than Jerry had said they'd be, and the orange juice was perfect-- pulpy and freshly squeezed.

"So, I know it's official FBI business and all, but have you found anything about Penelope yet?" Audrey finally asked about halfway through breakfast.

"Nothing we can disclose," Scully replied professionally, just as Mulder said, "Not a damn thing yet, Audrey."

Audrey looked at her uncle and then back at the FBI agents. "I may have a little information for you," she said shyly. "Penelope Larson isn't from Twin Peaks. Everyone knows that, of course. But you want to hear something interesting? She worked at the Horne's department store in her town before she died, at the _perfume counter_."

When neither agent answered, Audrey sighed. "Laura Palmer worked at the perfume counter at Horne's. It was sort of a gateway to her job at One-Eyed Jack's."

"But Penelope Larson didn't work at One-Eyed Jack's," Mulder interrupted. "The place has been closed down."

"That's true," Audrey replied coyly. "But I think it's connected. Laura was someone important here, but with all these secrets. But Penelope is a reverse of Laura, even down to her initials."

"When did you get a degree in crime-fighting, Audrey?" Jerry asked through a mammoth bite of pancake.

"I got a good education in the field from Agent Cooper," Audrey replied archly. "It's better than the law degree you have, Uncle Jerry."

"Truer words were never spoken," Jerry replied. "You've left the FBI speechless, I notice."

Audrey smiled at Mulder and Scully, who were both in mid-bite. Mulder swallowed first.

"I, well," Mulder said, "Those are interesting theories. I'm not sure if they're one hundred percent accurate, but they're definitely not absolutely wrong."

Scully smiled, but there was a definite strain to her smile. Audrey had obviously known Penelope Larson had worked at Horne's before today, and hadn't told anyone, saving it for a bon mot over exotic pancakes and duck eggs. She didn't like that at all. This town thrived on their dirty little secrets, and too many young girls were dead because of it.

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," Audrey said with a coquettish little glance. Scully caught herself rolling her eyes. She glanced at her watch. They needed to get to the Sheriff's department in twenty minutes and she was tired of the small talk and the exotic food. They were in Twin Peaks to investigate, not to play games.

"Mulder, we're supposed to be at the sheriff's department at eight-thirty and it's eight-o-nine," Scully said, her voice sounding shrill and jealous next to Audrey's. Mulder, surprised, looked down at his watch and sighed, quietly pushing back his plate. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to go, Audrey. It's been wonderful, though. And Jerry, thank you so much for breakfast."

"Of course, Agent Scully," Audrey said smoothly. "Thank you for having breakfast with us, and I hope you continue to enjoy your time here at the Great Northern. Good luck, Agent Scully-- Agent Mulder--"

Scully nodded again, standing up and helping Mulder do the same with a sharp little glare. He quietly pushed his chair in, nodded to Audrey and Jerry, and followed his fiery-eyed partner out into the hallway, not saying a word.

When the door shut behind them, Jerry shrugged. "Amateurs," he said. "You could tell those two anything and they'd believe it, Audrey."

"I could tell you anything and you'd believe it, Uncle Jerry," Audrey answered, shrugging prettily. "I like them. And that Agent Mulder is really cute."

"Audrey, didn't you learn anything from Agent Cooper?" Jerry asked.

"I sure did," Audrey replied. "But I learned more from Daddy."

Her eyes lit up wickedly as she looked away from her uncle and a small, secret smile stayed on her face.

 

**Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office  
8:42 AM**

"Good morning, everyone," Scully said, walking into the conference room with Mulder at her heels. She looked annoyed and he looked bewildered.

"Good morning," Harry replied.

"Sorry for the hold-up," Mulder said, sliding into a chair. "We were having breakfast with Jerry and Audrey Horne. They're fascinating people."

"You could say that," Hawk said. "Did Jerry spring some godawful delicacy on you?"

"Actually, the pancakes were delicious," Mulder replied. "Some sort of Japanese rice flour or something."

"They were really wonderful," Scully said, clearly very tired of the Hornes. "Maybe we can talk about police business now?"

The men all looked at her and nodded, right before the door flew open and Andy ran in with a huge grin on his face.

"Andy Jr. did the cutest thing this morning!" he announced, walking into the room. "She was eating her breakfast and-- oh. Am I interrupting?"

"It's all right, Andy," Mulder said. "We were just getting started."

"Oh," Andy said. "So Andy Jr. was eating her oatmeal and she saw me with a doughnut and coffee and she said, clear as a bell, 'Andy want Daddy food!' Isn't it adorable? She thinks doughnuts are daddy food!"

Everyone except Scully laughed, and Scully managed a polite smile. She was still irritated about the Hornes. She couldn't explain it, but she knew Audrey was up to something and Jerry reminded her a little too much of a used car salesman.

"Agent Scully, you have the results of the autopsy?" Harry said, turning his attention back to her. Scully nodded briskly.

"What I discovered in my results is that Penelope Larson's death occurred between eight and eleven o'clock on March 27," Scully began formally. "Her body was transported to the site where she was found, most likely in a car trunk, and that she was bludgeoned to death. According to her friend Cheyenne Wilson, who was the last person we know of who saw her alive, Penelope left the Wilson home, which has been described as near a heavily wooded area, at about seven o'clock. My examination revealed rope fibers in Penelope's wrists, much lower down than Laura Palmer's. There are also signs Penelope was gagged."

"Was she on drugs? Did the killer assault her?" Harry asked.

"No," Scully replied. "Her toxicological came back clean and I found no puncture wounds. Dr. Hayward had already discovered the "O" underneath her ring finger, which is a link to the other cases, as well as the plastic used to wrap the body. But there is no sign that Penelope Larson used drugs or had had sexual intercourse in the last twenty-four hours of her life. However--"

"Yes?" Harry said.

"I want to send the body and the plastic back to the fingerprinting labs in DC. I noticed that there was some residue on Penelope's hands-- like the killer had washed them postmortem. I think that we may be able to get a partial. Also, the samples of blood in Penelope's hair have been sent to the local field office for examination, just in case. So if we could contact the Larsons about the body, it would probably be a good thing."

"Right. We'll have Lucy get right on that, Agent," Harry said.

"Unfortunately, we can't give you any concrete idea of a suspect from this autopsy," Mulder chimed in. "Most likely, Penelope's killer was larger than she was, male, 25-40, but we can't be definite. He-- possibly she, though that is highly unlikely-- was strong enough to overpower her and to break her wrist while they were struggling. Hmm, wait a second. She was born on April 19, 1974. Is that significant in any way?"

"Not to my knowledge," Harry replied. "It sounds familiar, but I can't place it off the top of my head."

"Mulder, where are you going with this?" Scully asked. "Why does it matter when Penelope was born?"

"Well, this is the thing. You know what Audrey was saying about Penelope being an inversion of Laura?" Mulder asked. "Call me crazy, but it definitely has merit. Penelope Larson was a blonde, seventeen-year-old high school student, relatively popular, and working at Horne's perfume counter. But unlike Laura, Penelope really was the all-American girl she appeared to be."

"So?"

"So she doesn't fit the Leland Palmer/BOB MO," Mulder said smoothly. "Leland killed Teresa Banks, right, for whatever reason. Then he kills Laura who is connected to Teresa and almost kills Ronette Pulaski who is also part of the same ring of drugs and prostitution. Then there are his other victims, Jacques Renault and Madeleine Ferguson. Madeleine is Laura's double-- a lookalike, much like Teresa Banks. Jacques is also part of the circle."

"But Penelope isn't," Hawk said, his face lost in thought. "Her only connection is a superficial one that the killer would know we'd uncover."

"Right. BOB wants us to know he's got a new vessel and he's starting another reign of terror here in Twin Peaks," Mulder said. "Our new killer is a different man than Leland Palmer. He's pure in a way Leland Palmer wasn't. He was a good man before BOB took him over. There won't be any criminal records. He may be a pillar of the community."

"But if BOB is going to continue his terror here in Twin Peaks, why kill Penelope?" Scully asked.

"Maybe there was no one that fit BOB's MO at Horne's in Twin Peaks. I think Penelope Larson was chosen very deliberately, to send us a message," Mulder said, very serious. "He wants us to know he's back for certain."

"Another message sent by a sick and twisted messenger," Harry said. "I have to admit that this all makes a lot of sense, but I don't understand how doing a profile of BOB is going to lead us to a flesh and blood killer that we can stop."

"I was wondering the same thing," Scully said cattily. Damn Mulder anyway. Despite the fact he had enthusiastically suggested that Cooper was their best lead for a suspect, now he was behaving as though they had absolutely no suspicions whatsoever. He was so damned aggravating.

"Well, that's true," Mulder admitted. "However, I have an idea about that. What if we make a list of everyone in Twin Peaks who could have come into contact with BOB in a significant way? After all, according to some of Agent Cooper's field reports, there was a gathering of locals right before Leland Palmer died and BOB escaped. Also, there's the question of this Major Garland Briggs and these Lodges."

Harry nodded appreciatively. "I see where you're going with this. It should be fairly simple to put together, Mulder," he said. "We can start right now, with Agent Scully's favorite suspect, Agent Cooper."

Scully raised an eyebrow. Her face must have given her thoughts away. Either that or the sheriff was psychic. "Well, Sheriff, if only in the interests of completeness. That also means that you yourself and your deputies are suspects, as well."

"That's true," Harry said, nodding. "This list may be longer than I thought, then. Is anyone writing it down?"

 

**Double R Cafe  
2:50 PM**

"Hey there again, Agent Scully," Norma said as the redhead closed the door carefully. "What would you like for lunch?"

"Can I see a menu? The meatloaf was fantastic, but it's a little heavy for my appetite right now," Scully said, smiling and sliding onto a stool. "Could I start off with a glass of water, though?"

"Of course," Norma said, quickly getting her a glass and a menu. Scully nodded gratefully, and as she popped two Advil, started thinking about the laborious, painful investigation and the preliminary list of suspects. Right now, there were too many names on it, from Dale Cooper to the "Log Lady," who was apparently some mysterious person who carried a log. The problem with every last one of them was a lack of a demonstrable motive that didn't involve the supernatural. On a phone conversation to Penelope's parents, they had confirmed they had never heard or any of these people with the exception of Audrey Horne who was the owner of the department store Penelope worked at.

"Are you ready to order, Agent?" Norma asked, breaking Scully's concentration.

"Oh-- well-- hmm-- let me see."

"I'd recommend the chicken soup. It's tasty and comforting but won't weigh you down," Norma said with a pretty smile.

"Okay," Scully said. "Could I get a salad with that? And a root beer?"

"Sure can," Norma said. "How's the case going?"

"Slowly," Scully confessed. Her temples were still throbbing and dammit, she was pissed at Mulder. He was the one who had suggested Dale Cooper as the main suspect in the first place and he'd backed down on that faster than an elected politician. Now he and Harry were looking at Donna Hayward and James Hurley as suspects, who were back in town for the first time in a year for no apparent reason.

"That seems to be how it really is in law enforcement," Norma said. "On TV it looks so quick and easy, but in real life it's not as simple."

"Truer words were never spoken," Scully agreed. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Norma turned her attention back to the kitchen and hurried away. Scully, left alone, sipped at her water.

The door opened again, and a woman carrying a log walked in. She nodded politely at the other patrons and sat down right next to Scully.

"You're one of the FBI agents," she said, cradling the log carefully. "My log has something to tell you."

"Your log?"

"Yes," the woman said emphatically. "The owls are watching again, and my log says their cry is a warning. He says the woods are alive with danger."

Scully nodded. "Thank you," she said, hoping that was inoffensive. This town was too strange sometimes. Jerry Horne's pancakes, a crazy lady with a log, and then BOB-- it was an X-File, that was for sure.

"It's good that you've accepted this," the Log Lady said. "My log has another thing to tell you."

"Yes?"

"There are many deaths, and the one you want has been dead for two years."

"What does that mean?" Scully asked.

"I don't know," the Log Lady admitted. "I only know my log wanted you to know."

With that, she stood up and walked to another booth, leaving a bewildered Scully to stare after her until Norma set down a bowl of soup.

"I'll be right back with your salad and your root beer," Norma said pleasantly. Scully nodded and looked down at the soup. A white piece of paper stuck out from the side. Very quietly, Scully took it and opened it.

In simple, slanted handwriting it said "Sparkwood & 21\. Tomorrow at 7" and Scully quickly stuffed it in her pocket. When Norma returned with the root beer and salad, Scully was calmly sipping her soup.

"Enjoying your soup?" Norma asked, stressing the question just a little more than she needed to. With a little nod and smile, Scully reassured the woman she got the message.

"It's exactly what I was looking for," Scully replied.

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
10:28 PM**

"This list of suspects reads like a Who's Who of survivors from the last case," Scully said, toweling off her hair vigorously. "Hey, I met that Log Lady today. They can't be serious about suspecting her."

"Of course not," Mulder replied, twirling his glasses as he sat on the bed, surrounded by paperwork. Scully noticed he looked extremely sexy in his faded FBI sweats. "Most of the people on this list can be dismissed out of hand. For example, Ben Horne, while he is an extremely suspicious character, is finishing his term in federal prison for owning One-Eyed Jack's. Of course, how Ben was sentenced and Jerry ran off scot-free is beyond me."

"Don't ask me," Scully said, hanging up her towel. "I'm a doctor, not a lawyer."

"It looks to me like we'll have the list narrowed down by tomorrow to about five or ten people, definitely enough to start asking questions," Mulder said, tapping his face contemplatively. "I wish we had more evidence. We don't even know where Penelope was killed, and the lab evidence isn't back yet. We're more or less twiddling our thumbs."

"And suspecting kids of murder," Scully said, brushing out her hair.

"You mean Donna and James?" Mulder called.

"You really think they could have done this?" Scully asked, violently pulling the brush through her slightly knotty hair.

"If they were just kids? Hell, no," Mulder said. "The BOB factor is not to be discounted."

"You really believe in BOB? Mulder, even if there are psychotic homicidal spirits in those woods, what self-respecting evil spirit calls itself BOB, for goodness sakes?" Scully said, laughing.

"People saw BOB, Scully."

"The human mind is not the most reliable thing on the planet, Mulder," Scully replied. "If BOB is anything, it seems to be some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, passed on from person to person."

"But none of these people were tortured by Leland Palmer."

"What about Windom Earle?" Scully asked, finishing with her hair and looking around for her contact lens fluid. "He showed all the characteristics of being possessed by BOB."

"Then I'd suggest Leo Johnson-- if he's alive, or Cooper or Annie Blackburne," Mulder replied without missing a beat. "However, if BOB is an evil spirit, which I'm inclined to believe, there are definitely other ways of transmission which defy logic."

"But you don't deny that Cooper or this Annie are suspects?"

"Most definitely not," Mulder said. "I still think Cooper is our main suspect. However, I don't think we need to alienate local law enforcement."

"You didn't care back in Oregon," Scully said accusingly.

"That's because I knew they were involved," Mulder said. "Harry and his deputies are on our side. They know about the spirits in these woods and they're not going to lie to us about them."

"It's good to know that you haven't completely left me twisting in the wind," Scully said, emerging in an oversized Georgetown t-shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail. "You were really pissing me off, Mulder."

"I live to piss people off, didn't you know?" Mulder asked with a rakish grin. "Still, we can't get so focused on one suspect that we rule out everyone else. Donna Hayward and James Hurley haven't been in Twin Peaks for over a year. Why show up now?"

Scully wasn't the only one who decided to answer him.

"Good question, Agent Mulder," Audrey said, turning in the darkness to the guest watching with her. "My God, whoever you got to rig up their room is really fantastic."

They were sitting in her office, which looked almost ominous in the dark. However, the cheap video feed from the room required all the lights to be off. Audrey shrugged. She didn't mind the darkness too much and considering who was there with her...

"I only use the best, Audrey," Cooper said, smiling at her. "Thank you for agreeing to my request."

"I trust you, Cooper," Audrey said shyly. "If you say that we need to keep an eye on the FBI, I believe you."

"That's good to know. I'm glad I can count on you as my friend," Cooper said, smiling. "Hmm. I don't know if we're going to get any more information from our FBI friends tonight."

Audrey looked back at the video monitor. Her eyes widened as she watched Mulder pull Scully in for a long, sensuous kiss.

"No wonder she was mad at me at breakfast," she said, blushing slightly. She looked for the button to turn off the television and then quickly turned on her desk lamp.

"Audrey, I hate to be a burden on you, but I need more of your help," Cooper said, his dark eyes fastened on the girl. "Can you put together a dinner-- a celebration-- for this Friday evening?"

"For the FBI agents? Why?" Audrey asked.

"You and I both know that the FBI isn't going to solve this case on their own. I think the killer will be drawn to this celebration and that maybe he'll give himself away. But even more importantly, people give away clues when they're relaxed-- both the FBI and the guilty party in this case. We can kill two birds with one stone, Audrey."

"Should I make the party in honor of the FBI?"

"That would be too suspicious," Cooper said, cracking his knuckles. "Come up with some other excuse, but make sure they accept the invitation. I know you can come up with an idea, you're very good at them."

Audrey's face lit up at the compliment. "All right, I will," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Cooper?"

Cooper reached over and took her hand in his. Audrey pretended not to be delighted and looked at him very seriously. She was his friend and associate, after all. This was all just business.

"You're doing fine right now," he said gently. "If there's anything else, I'll let you know. Good evening, Audrey."

Carefully, he kissed her hand and left. Audrey, alone again, clutched her hand to her cheek and tried not to cry. And Mulder and Scully, blissfully unaware, decided to clear the paperwork off the bed.


	6. Thursday, April 2, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe." --Marianne Moore

 

**Twin Peaks Sheriff's Department  
8:29 AM**

Scully had been getting used to strange sights in Twin Peaks-- the dreams, the creepy ex-FBI agents, the stacks of doughnuts-- but she was not ready for the little woman with the masses of blonde hair sleeping while sitting upright, literally waist-deep in boxes of files and loose papers. The requisite doughnuts were sitting behind her in a pink box along with a steaming pot of coffee.

"Hello?" Mulder asked, trying not to scare the woman. "Hello, are you awake?"

"No, I'm not. I'm too sleepy to be awake," she replied, as distinctly as she could from behind all the papers. Mulder, who two days earlier would have shared a bewildered glance with Scully, shrugged, tiptoed behind her, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Would you like some, Scully?" he whispered.

"Sure," she replied. "Just cream today. I'm off the sugar."

"The coffee's good enough here that you really don't need sugar anyway," Mulder replied. "Doughnut?"

"Raspberry jelly, please," she said, courteously tiptoeing to where her partner stood. "My God, she must have been working all night."

"Yes, I was!" the little woman said, her eyes opening wide. "I haven't been awake so much since Andy Jr. was breastfeeding!"

"I'm--" Mulder stuttered, trying to come up with an appropriate response. "Fox Mulder, FBI. Would you like a cup of coffee--"

"Lucy," she said. "Lucy Moran. It's actually Lucy Moran Brennan, but Andy and I decided that it would be better if I kept my own name professionally. But you can just call me Lucy because that's what everyone here calls me. Are you two the FBI agents?"

"Hi," Scully said, extending her hand over the overflow of paper. "Special Agent Dana Scully. It's nice to meet you, Lucy."

"Hi," Lucy said. "Sheriff Truman is going to be a little late this morning. He tried to call but you had already left. He says he'll be here at nine to discuss the big five."

"Big five?" Mulder asked.

"Well, that's how many serious suspects we have left to investigate," Lucy said. "There's-- let's see-- Dale Cooper, Donna Hayward, James Hurley, Annie Blackburn, oh, and hmm, this is funny, Bobby Briggs is a suspect."

"What's funny about that?" Scully asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "Bobby has a criminal record and he was connected to the Laura Palmer case."

Lucy sighed. "Yes, but ever since Bobby married Shelly, he's reformed. It's just like an Afterschool Special," she said. "Do you think Bobby did it, Agent Scully?"

Scully shook her head. "No, I don't," she said. "Hey, Lucy. Do you need help getting out?"

Lucy looked at her precarious position and her eyes widened. "Oh, drat! How did this happen?" she said. "It didn't look like this when I fell asleep-- at least I don't think it did, anyway."

She sighed. Scully smiled and started moving boxes to get the other woman out of her predicament. After Mulder finished his third doughnut, he started helping too, and by the time Harry arrived, the three were waiting in the conference room, looking over the relevant files.

"Good morning," Harry said. "I'm sorry I was late. How's everyone this morning?"

"We're fine," Mulder said. "You?"

"I'm okay," Harry said briefly. "I see you've been looking over the files of our five major suspects."

"Yes," Scully said. "I see that most of the rest have fairly strong alibis for where they've been-- what about Leo Johnson?"

Harry shrugged. "If I could prove conclusively he were alive or in the area, he'd definitely be on my list. As it is, no one around here has seen him in three years," he said. Scully nodded in agreement and looked down at the suspects again.

"I have another question," Scully said. "My findings suggest that whoever committed this crime was fairly strong, and from the looks of things, both Ms. Blackburn and Ms. Hayward are not very large women."

"That's true," Harry agreed. "However, both Annie and Donna have possible motive and definite opportunity, and both of them could have been working in tandem with their significant others."

"Besides," Mulder piped in. "We have no idea if BOB grants his vessels superhuman strength. There's no evidence of that in the Laura Palmer case, but Leland Palmer was definitely larger than those girls."

Everyone nodded appreciatively and Harry turned back to Scully. "I'll admit to you, Agent, that I wouldn't question any of these suspects if this were an ordinary case. In fact, I hope that there is no supernatural aspect to this case and that everyone on this list is completely innocent. But I was there in 1989 and I can't deny that there was something more than a lone madman involved. I don't want anyone else to die because I wasn't willing to look into the possibilities."

Scully, genuinely touched by the man's honesty, nodded quickly. "I understand, Sheriff," she said. "I agree with you. We can't afford to let any investigative avenue be neglected."

"That's why Dale Cooper's on the list," Harry said. "I don't think Coop's capable of murder, but I admit there have been times in the last three years he's been strange. Then again, he's been strange since I've known him. The second night he was in town, he called me and said he knew who killed Laura Palmer. It came to him in a dream, he told me. Turns out he was right, of course, but it was still strange."

Scully flinched. God damn, this case got weirder and weirder every day! "A dream?" Mulder asked. "That's not in the reports. It says here Leland Palmer confessed."

"He did," Harry replied. "But Coop knew before the confession that Leland did it. He told us that Laura whispered it to him in the dream. Hell, I wish someone were having dreams now. It would give us more information than we have now."

"Maybe not," Scully replied shakily. She kept thinking of the giant's first statement. This has happened before. It will happen again. And her only concern was the now. Now, like meeting Norma Hurley at Sparkwood and 21 tonight. "So, who should we question first?"

 

**Dale Cooper Residence  
12:03 PM**

"Leo, do you know what I like best about you?" Dale Cooper asked the man who was currently sitting across from him. "Absolutely nothing."

"That's good to know, Mr. Cooper," Leo replied. "I don't like anything about you either."

Cooper smiled that peculiar smile again. Leo shuddered inwardly. "You don't like the fact I saved your life?" Cooper asked. "You would rather be dead? I can make that happen very easily, Leo. I doubt anyone would miss you."

"I'm grateful for that, Mr. Cooper," Leo said, looking down at the ground. "You know that I'm grateful."

"I do know that," Cooper answering, smiling broadly. He walked over to Leo and pulled the other man's head up by the simple expedient of dragging him up by the nostrils. "But I'd like to hear it again. What do you say, Leo?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper, sir," Leo said, staring up into Cooper's eyes. "Thank you for saving my miserable life."

Cooper abruptly let him go and sat down again. "See? Good manners are the cornerstone of any good relationship," he said. "Now, Leo, I have a little job for you, which is why you're within a hundred miles of Twin Peaks right now."

"I thought so, sir," Leo said, not wanting to jeopardize Cooper's good mood. "What would you like me to do, sir?"

Cooper was silent for a moment, cocking his head slightly. "Just a minute, Leo," he said. Very quietly, Cooper stood up and walked around the room, his eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to sniff the air. Leo stayed very still. So did Annie Blackburn, who was hidden in the coat closet, listening to every word the two men were saying. She had been horrified to see Leo Johnson arrive, alive and in cahoots with Dale. She knew very well that if Cooper found her, she would not survive the day, so frozen in place, Annie tried to stop breathing as the man she had once loved listened for any signs of her presence. Finally, he sat down again.

"I'm sorry, Leo," Cooper said in a conversational tone. "I could have sworn I heard someone listening."

"No problem, sir," Leo replied. "I was asking what you'd like me to do, sir?"

"Ah, yes," Cooper said. "There are two FBI agents in town investigating a murder. I need you to put them out of commission."

"You mean--" Leo made a slashing gesture across his throat. Cooper shook his head.

"Nothing so crass and permanent, Leo. I have the necessary provisions for you. Tomorrow, there's going to be a party at the Great Northern for the Special Agents. I want you to put the contents of the vial that I will give to you tomorrow morning into the agents' food-- and perhaps a few selected others, though with less drastic results. Then I will want you to leave the vial in a select location, which I will reveal to you tomorrow. While the stalwart FBI agents are out of commission, you will then place certain items in other locations. Then you leave town until I call you again," Cooper said, his face serious and focused. "And Leo? Don't even think of going near Shelly or Bobby. If there is one shred of evidence placing you in Twin Peaks this weekend, I'll put two bullets in the back of your head and leave you in the ruins of the mill. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," Leo said, eyes wide. Annie realized that Leo was scared shitless of Dale. That in itself was terrifying, but even worse was how calm and collected Cooper was. He seemed absolutely confident Leo would follow his orders to the letter, probably because Leo had done so before-- or learned to do so.

"All right, then. Get out of here and stay out of sight," Cooper said. "Annie should be home for lunch any minute."

Leo nodded, rose, and left as quickly as possible, leaving Cooper alone in the living room. Annie took a small, shallow breath. Now she was stuck in this closet while a madman stalked back and forth across their living room, looking around carefully.

"Who's here?" he asked suddenly. Annie, peering as closely as she dared, suddenly saw Cooper was not wearing his own face. Biting her lips together so hard they bled, she stayed still. "I know you're here. I'm gonna find you and then there's gonna be an accident. Oops, oops, oops."

Annie closed her eyes and began to silently pray. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw Cooper was back to himself, but he was walking to a record player and setting the needle down.

"Doo-lang, doo-lang, doo-lang," the music sang. Cooper, seemingly mesmerized, began to dance to the song, snapping his fingers and finally to begin singing with it. "He's so fine-- wish he were mine-- that handsome boy over there-- doo-lang, doo-lang, doo-lang--"

As Cooper danced, Annie realized that it was just a matter of time. He was going to find her and he was going to kill her. Even if he didn't do it today, he'd do it on another day, and he'd get away with it. She clenched her fists and kept as quiet as was humanly possible.

"He's so fine-- oh yeah--" Cooper sang, jerking back and forth. "Gotta be mine-- oh yeah! Sooner or later-- oh yeah-- I hope it's not later-- oh yeah! We've got to get together-- oh yeah! The sooner the better-- oh yeah-- I just CAN'T WAIT, I JUST CAN'T WAIT--"

The needle on the record started to jump and the words kept repeating, and Cooper's voice just kept getting more and more insistent. He started roaming around the room, moving up and down the halls. Annie realized he was looking for her now. Her stomach clenched, and frozen like a deer caught in headlights. Something in her head kept screaming to run, run as fast as she could and tell everyone what Cooper was. But something else whispered he'd catch her if she made a sound.

"I just can't wait! I just can't wait!" Cooper called, coming back into the living room and swaying drunkenly. Annie, eyes wide in horror, watched as he walked closer and closer to the closet, the sound of his shoes thumping on the floor. This was it. She was dead.

His hand was on the doorknob when the phone rang. Cooper paused. The phone rang again. With agonizing precision, he moved back, stopping the record and picking up the phone in the kitchen. Annie, suddenly freed from her panic, threw the door open and ran out the front door. She didn't care if he had heard her. If she ran fast enough and far enough, she could get into town. That was, if the owls weren't watching.

Moving as fast as her feet could carry her, Annie Blackburn ran into the woods, listening to the sound of her own breathing as she looked for owls and prayed that she would get to town in time.

 

**Sheriff's Department  
6:30 PM**

"I want to stress that you are not under official suspicion," Mulder said calmly to the nervous, chain-smoking young woman in the chair across from him. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"Why would you need to ask me a few questions if you didn't suspect me of something?" Donna Hayward asked defensively. Her eyes were narrowed and she had been agitated ever since she had walked into the building.

Mulder didn't understand it at all. Donna Hayward was low on everyone's suspect list. Only her close connection to Laura Palmer and her rather unexpected visit to Twin Peaks this week placed her on it at all. He had expected the girl to explain her visit, which was probably some sort of family trouble, give an alibi, and go home, completely free from any suspicion at all. Instead, she was palpably nervous, drumming her fingers on the table, smoking cigarette after cigarette, and generally twitching like mad.

"I'm sure you can appreciate that because of the connection between Penelope Larson and the Laura Palmer case, we need to question those who were involved in that case," Mulder said.

"No, I don't," Donna replied flatly. "I didn't know Penelope Larson. I've been out of Twin Peaks for nearly three years now, Agent Mulder. To question me about this girl's death seems absolutely absurd, unless you suspect me of killing her, and if you suspect me, you're wrong."

"Why don't you let me ask a couple of questions before drawing any conclusions?" Mulder asked, getting annoyed.

Donna stared at him, a surly expression crossing her thin, angular face. "All right, ask your questions. But I didn't kill Penelope Larson and I don't have anything to do with this, so you're really just wasting your time."

"I'll be the judge of that," Mulder replied, looking down at his list of questions again. "How long has it been since you visited Twin Peaks, Donna?"

Across the hall, Harry was asking an equally uncooperative James Hurley the same questions. "Come on, James, you know that no one here really suspects you."

"Then why are we here?"

"Routine questioning," Harry said. "You haven't been around here very often, James. Don't you think people might be wondering if two days after you and Donna show up, this girl dies, just like Laura did?"

"Donna doesn't have anything to do with this!" James shouted.

"I'm not saying she did," Harry replied calmly. "Do you understand why I have to ask, though?"

James glared at Harry. "Maybe I do, but it's still bullshit," he said in a low, growly voice. "You called me up here when Laura died and you knew I didn't do it, and now you're doing it again for this Penelope chick. I'm getting really tired of being asked where I was on the night of such-and-such and can anyone verify that."

"Why are you in town, James?" Harry asked. James shrugged.

"I felt like making a visit to see my uncle," he replied. "I missed the town, maybe."

"I've talked to Big Ed, James," Harry replied. "He hasn't seen much of you."

"Does that make me a murderer?" James asked.

Mulder, trying to keep a calm head across the hall, really wished Scully were with him. But she had refused, citing an errand involving forensic pathology and her lack of patience with questioning suspects. He suspected she wasn't being entirely honest, but then again, she hadn't been honest the entire trip. If this case hadn't come up, he knew, she would have pulled transfer papers out of that hideous briefcase on Monday morning and told him to sign on the dotted line.

He really didn't want to. Sure, Scully was a monumental pain in the ass as a partner-- stubborn to a fault, second-guessing him at every turn, and in desperate need of some field time to smooth out her rough edges. But she was clever, tough, and goddamn, she was beautiful. He liked her a lot and suspected that like might be understating the case.

"Well?" Donna asked, her antsy voice breaking his reverie. "Does it make me a murderer?"

"No, Donna, it doesn't," Mulder told his uncooperative suspect. He still couldn't understand why she was being so hostile. "But if you're not a murderer, why are you being so uncooperative about answering a few simple questions?"

Women. Maybe he just didn't understand them, period. He knew that Scully liked him as much as he liked her. Ever since they had gotten back into the field, she had warmed up again, welcoming all the flirtation and the sex without a bit of problem. Then again, she was being terribly close-mouthed. This case bothered his partner for some unknown reason she wasn't talking about.

"Look, Agent Mulder," Donna said in a sharp voice. "I am in Twin Peaks for a very simple reason-- to visit my parents. I'm sorry that I don't visit them enough for this to be a good reason, but it's the truth. James and I didn't plan for our visits to coincide, but they did. And my only alibi for the night of Penelope's death? I was out with James alone. I didn't kill her. I didn't even know her. I'm sorry I can't help your investigation, but that's the truth."

Mulder, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere with Donna right now, nodded wearily. "All right, Ms. Hayward. Thank you very much for answering my questions."

"I can go?" Donna asked.

"Yes, but you may be hearing from me again," Mulder replied.

She didn't answer him, just stood up, stalked past him and out of the interrogation room. Across the hall, James walked out of the other room. Harry had had almost as little luck with the young man as Mulder had with Donna. The two of them looked at each other and walked out of the building together, sharing little glances.

"James, what are we going to do? We're in so much trouble," Donna hissed.

"We're not in trouble yet, Donna," James replied. "We've just got to play it cool."

"James, the police are watching us. We don't have an alibi for that girl's death and once they know why we're here, there's no way they'll believe we didn't do it!" Donna said.

"That's why they don't need to know. Just play it cool, Donna. I promise, we'll get out of this okay," James said, squeezing her hand. "As long as everything goes according to plan, we'll be okay."

"Yeah," Donna said cynically as she climbed on James's motorcycle. "That just fills my heart with confidence, James."

 

**Sparkwood and 21  
7:01 PM**

Whenever Scully had a moment to enjoy Twin Peaks by herself, she kept realizing she liked the place. The town was beautiful. When the woods weren't full of evil spirits, they were full of trees, nature, and all of the things her father had always romanticized when they were living in the identical concrete blocks on identical naval bases half a world apart. Beyond that, the residents were strangely endearing, trapped in time and ultramodern, walking contradictions. Even Audrey's blatant flirting had its own charm. In fact, the only thing Scully disliked about Twin Peaks was Dale Cooper, she realized as she spotted a classic boat of a car pulling to the side of the road.

Norma, wearing a long coat that nearly overwhelmed her, got out of the car. She looked around a moment, nodding calmly when she saw Scully waiting at the corner and waving her to the car. Scully, after a moment of confusion, walked up to the car.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," Norma said. "I didn't know if FBI agents responded to mysterious notes. I suppose it really wasn't that mysterious, but-- I'm glad you're here."

"I'm willing to be of any help I can be," Scully replied. "What's on your mind, Norma?"

"Why don't we go somewhere else to talk about this?" Norma asked. "I want to make sure nobody's listening."

Scully raised an internal eyebrow. Norma didn't look like the paranoid type, but anyone living in this town had a right to be wary. She got into the car, and Norma, slipping behind the wheel, started the engine and roared off. The radio, set to an oldies station, blazed just loud enough to drown out the engine whine.

"Well, I don't know why I came here tonight-- I got the feeling that something ain't right," the singer crooned. Scully, surprised for a minute by the song, shrugged and looked out the window into the night.

"This reminds me of taking Sunday drives with my mom," Scully said. "We used to own a car about this size and she liked to go driving with each of us kids on our own."

Norma smiled. "Sounds like you have a nice mom," she said.

"She has her good points," Scully replied.

"That's nice," Norma said, accelerating. "Agent Scully, I know you know I didn't bring you out here to make small talk. It's just hard to say what I'm thinking right now because if I'm wrong, it could hurt your whole investigation. But I don't think I'm wrong."

"It's all right, Norma," Scully said. "I'm a trained agent. I promise no matter what you have to say, it'll be handled right."

Norma nodded. "I don't know where to begin," she admitted. "I guess I should just tell you flat out that I think that Agent Cooper killed that girl and that there's something very wrong with him. But I know that sounds crazy."

Scully, almost elated, kept a straight face and nodded. But she couldn't believe how glad she was that someone else saw the wrongness in Cooper. Maybe she wasn't being too suspicious, after all. Maybe everyone else wasn't being suspicious enough.

"Why do you think that Agent Cooper did it? What do you know about the case, Norma?" Scully asked, impressed by the control she held in her voice.

Norma laughed nervously. "That's the problem, Agent Scully. I don't know anything about the case except that it's related to Laura Palmer. I don't have any evidence you could use in a court case, just a lot of suspicions I have to share with someone. I'd tell Ed and Harry, but they love Cooper."

"And you don't?"

"No," Norma said quietly. Her voice was very cold and Scully realized it was angry as well as unhappy. "Do you know that Annie Blackburne is my sister? She had just left a convent when she met Cooper. At first I was happy for them. Cooper was a hero. He was polite and charming and gentlemanly. The two of them looked like a good match-- that's something rare in Twin Peaks, Agent Scully."

Scully nodded as Norma turned a sharp left on the dark streets. A quick peek at the speedometer revealed they were going about sixty and it felt faster.

"What happened then?" Scully asked.

"It was when that crazy FBI man, Windom Earle, kidnapped Annie. They went to this place-- Annie called it the Black Lodge later. Cooper went after Annie, to save her life and he came out different. But no one knew that. I don't even think I'd know if it weren't for Annie and the ways she's changed."

They turned another corner and suddenly the woods surrounded them. Abruptly, Norma pulled off the road and turned off the car. She turned to Scully, her face tense.

"Every time I see my sister, she looks more afraid. You've got to understand, my sister and I aren't that close, but she might as well have been back in the convent after the incident with this Black Lodge. She got a job in the next town over when she knew she could have had a job at the Double R. She avoids me-- Cooper still comes to the Double R but Annie-- never. I've seen her walking down the street, ignoring me as best she can. And when I do see her she looks tired and sad," Norma said. "I didn't understand it at first. I thought Cooper could help her get past all the pain in her life. Then I started noticing Cooper wasn't quite right himself."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, though she knew exactly what Norma meant.

"I don't know if it's something I can explain in words. It's just a feeling he gave me-- maybe his smile was just a little too big, or he blinked too much, or complimented the coffee once too many times. Little things, the kind of thing you don't worry about unless you're looking for them," Norma said. "That doesn't make much sense, I know. But does it help explain what I'm trying to say at all?"

"It does, actually," Scully said. "I understand why you're reluctant to talk to the FBI about it, too."

"You don't trust him either, do you, Scully?" Norma asked.

"No, I don't," Scully said. "Of course, my reasons are almost as inexplicable as yours. His smile is definitely too big-- like a crocodile's. And I had a dream--"

Norma looked at her strangely. "Really? About Cooper?"

"He said I was a candle flame, but his eyes were wrong," Scully mused, not really hearing Norma. "Burning men like moths. Such a strange dream--"

The shrill buzz of her cell phone surprised Scully. Quickly, she pulled it out and pressed the talk button.

"Scully," she said.

"It's me," Mulder said, his voice drowning in static. "Annie Blackburn--" and his voice disappeared for a moment "Found her at Big Ed's--"

"Mulder, wait, I can't hear you-- where's Annie?"

Norma gasped. "What?" she whispered. Scully shook her head and tried to hear what Mulder was saying.

"You're breaking up--" he said, sounding. "She's at-- doctors are-- got a big cut, it's infected-- she's delirious--"

"Mulder, I'm going to go down to the hospital, okay? Can you hear me?" Scully hollered. "I'll meet you there! I'll try to call you later!"

There was no reply except the noisy buzz of static. Scully ended the call and looked at Norma, who was trembling slightly.

"What happened to Annie?" Norma whispered. "Did he kill her?"

"No," Scully replied. "They found her at Big Ed's. She's delirious. They've taken her to the hospital, but I don't have much by way of details right now."

Norma's hands were already in motion, revving up the car, turning on the lights, as her feet hit the pedals full speed. Before Scully could explain anything else, she and the big, old-fashioned American roadster were flying over the road into the darkness of night.


	7. Friday, April 3, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This state of emergency-- how beautiful to be!" --Bjork

 

**Calhoun Memorial Hospital  
6:39 AM**

When he walked into the crowded hospital hallway, he instinctively knew she was there somewhere. His eyes started looking back and forth, darting like sparrows on the lawn, searching. He finally saw her through the waves of driven people, slumped in a hard plastic chair, red hair hiding her face. He smiled.

"Scully," he called. The redhead's eyes flew open and she looked around frantically, trying to figure out who had wakened her.

"Mulder?" she asked finally, eyes still glazed by sleep. Yawning slightly, she stood up and tried to see her partner clearly. "Is that you?

Mulder waved, dodging two nurses and a tray of specimens to reach his bleary-eyed and jumpy partner. "Yeah. Have you been here all night? How's Annie? Have you gotten a statement?"

"She's not doing too well," Scully admitted in a low, sleep-laden voice. "She hasn't regained consciousness yet."

Yawning, Scully looked down at her lap and her hands primly folded over the case file. Mulder noticed how drawn her face was and how anxious she seemed to be whenever she looked down at the folder.

"Scully, what's wrong?" he asked, dropping to his knees. "You've been kind of jumpy lately. Is there a reason I should know about?"

She looked away, rubbing her head fretfully. "Not a rational reason," she said. "I--"

"Is it because of the transfer?" Mulder asked. Scully stared at him. He smiled ruefully. "I'd heard something about it on the grapevine."

"Mulder, do you really think now is a good time to discuss this?" Scully asked. He shrugged and took her free hand.

"Is Annie Blackburn going to be able to make a coherent statement any time soon?" Mulder asked. Scully looked down and then shook her head. "Then I think now may be a very good time. Why don't we make a discreet exit, get you a cup of coffee and some pancakes at the Double R, and talk about this privately?"

Scully, too tired to argue, nodded. Mulder helped her out of the chair and down the hall, mercifully staying quiet. Her head ached and the only thing she could think of right now was the dream she had awakened from. It had been an old-fashioned nightmare, really, the sort where she was stuck in place and couldn't run. The other dream, of the room and the giant and Laura, had been something else, something related to the case and she needed to talk about it to someone.

Reaching the car, Mulder opened Scully's door before getting in himself, watching her carefully. She had something on her mind that she wasn't telling and he couldn't figure it out. It wasn't the transfer, either. It was definitely the case.

"You want to tell me what's going on now, Scully?" Mulder asked as he shut his door. Scully looked at him and bit her lip.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said.

"Just tell me the truth. I can handle it," Mulder said. "What is it about this case?"

Scully sighed again and looked out the window. "It all sounds so crazy," she said. "I don't know. Maybe we all go a little mad sometimes. But last Friday I was washing my face, thinking about transferring and when I looked up, I saw Laura Palmer. She was looking back at me from the mirror."

"You saw her?"

"I didn't know she was Laura," Scully said. "Mulder, you know I don't believe in this kind of thing. But she warned me. She was so urgent. I thought I was hallucinating. And then, here's the funny thing. I wrote down that Laura-- I used her name-- that she came to warn me."

Mulder's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Did she warn you about Cooper?"

"No," Scully said. "But, listen, there's more. I had another dream after that one-- maybe I should call it a vision. It was the first night we were in the Great Northern. Laura was there again, and so was her cousin. Cooper was in that one. He was standing over my bed and he said things about me about burning things. Laura told me not to be afraid. And then there was a giant. He told me three things."

Mulder nodded again. "What did he tell you?"

Scully's eyes unfocused slightly as she thought about the dream and how real it had seemed, how strange it had been.

"First, that this has happened before and will happen again and that the now is my only concern," she said precisely. Her eyes were half-closed and her hands were shaking violently. "Second, that the father who is not my father will point my way and that I must not fear it. Third, that I must know my own desire. Then Maddy Ferguson said something interesting-- two is just one looked at in a different way."

She looked down at her hands and her breathing got noisy, almost as if she were ready to cry. Mulder, trying to keep his eyes on the road, really didn't know what to say. Before he could think of anything, his phone rang shrilly. He picked it up, grimacing slightly.

"Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, this is Lucy at the Sheriff's Department. Sheriff Truman is looking for you. He says that you and Agent Scully need to come to the station as soon as possible. He just went to pick up Donna and James."

"Donna and James? Why?"

"We just got a wire from where Donna goes to college. There was a murder there six weeks ago of a girl named--" and there was a pause-- "Deirdre Malloy. They didn't realize until Penelope's murder made the news, but they found a letter under her fingernail, an "e." Sheriff Truman thinks they know something about it."

Scully looked at Mulder, who kept driving. "All right, Lucy, we'll be right there," he said, finally hanging up.

"What happened?"

"It looks like our copycat has more than one notch on his belt. Penelope Larson was his second victim, Scully. That throws all of our theories out the window."

Scully bit her lip. "This has happened before," she muttered. "Mulder, what if my dream was literal? What if Penelope is the now, and this first victim-- the one that had happened before-- is what the Giant meant? And Annie Blackburn is supposed to be the third victim?"

"The Giant also said the now is your only concern," Mulder replied. "What does that mean?"

"Hell if I know," Scully said. "Come on, Mulder, there'll be doughnuts and coffee at the station. Let's go interrogate Donna and James."

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
10:19 AM**

"We should just call it off, Audrey," Jerry Horne said. "Nobody has time to attend a gala event tonight. Especially one you threw together in three days to celebrate-- what are we celebrating again?"

"Nothing," Audrey replied. "It's a new tradition at the Great Northern. We need to extend ourselves further into the community. It's good PR, Uncle Jerry."

"It's expensive PR," Jerry replied. "And hasty. And-- whoa, what's that?"

Audrey suppressed a giggle as her hyperactive uncle ran to the window and pressed his face against it. He was easily distracted, and the menu she had imported was as much to keep him out of her hair as it was to impress her guests.

"Audrey, if I'm not mistaken, it looks like you've commissioned a bona fide Hawaiian luau!" Jerry said. "Down to the roasted pig."

"Well, Uncle Jerry," Audrey said coyly. "I can't very well be less than authentic when I have a gourmet like you in the family, can I?"

Jerry turned from the window with a big grin on his face. "Audrey, you're a girl after my own heart," he said, hurrying up to her and embracing her. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll make sure that everything turns out perfectly for my Audrey's dinner."

"Oh, Uncle Jerry!" Audrey said, hugging back. "You're really too good to me. Will you make sure that the pig doesn't overcook and that everything tastes just right?"

"Of course, Audrey," Jerry said, giving her a fond pinch on the cheek. "If you'll excuse me, I have a dinner to spice up!"

"Thank you," Audrey called as Jerry hurried out of the room. After he closed the door, she burst into laughter. He was just too funny-- a couple of stuffed pigs and a puu-puu platter and Jerry was in heaven. Finally, after wiping her eyes, Audrey picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number. After about four rings, he finally picked up.

"Whoever this is, it's a bad time."

"It's Audrey," she said dryly. "Surely you have just a little time for me, Agent Cooper? Or is that Mr. Cooper?"

"It can be Dale as long as you have good news for me, Audrey," Cooper replied. "How is our gala shaping up?"

"It's going to be a success, as long as people come," Audrey said. "Are the unofficial guests of honor going to be able to make it? They haven't been around most of today."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Just keep the party going until they show up, Audrey. They have to eat and sleep sometime."

"Dale," and Audrey's voice was tiny, almost frightened. "Why are we doing this? Are we really trying to find the killer?"

"Audrey, don't you trust me?"

"It doesn't make sense," she said urgently. "I trust you, I really do, but the FBI agents are going to be tired when they come back. And the killer wouldn't just come to the Great Northern, would he?"

"Listen to me, Audrey," Cooper said in a low, clear voice. "There are strange forces in the world, and even stranger forces here in Twin Peaks. I know that logically, it doesn't make sense for the killer to come to a big public event, but the force that drives him to kill will drive him to the party. I promise."

Audrey sighed. "All right, I believe you," she said. "Are you going to be here tonight?"

"Of course!" Cooper said. "I have to be there to investigate, don't I? Don't worry about a thing, Audrey. I'll take care of it."

"All right, Dale," she said, glowing a little over using his first name. "I know you will. See you tonight."

"See you tonight, Audrey," he said, hanging up. He turned to Leo Johnson, who had overheard most of the conversation. "You know what you're supposed to do. Take care of it, report back to me, then get the hell out of town."

"Yes, sir," Leo replied, trying to hide what he was thinking. Like hell he was getting out of town. With a few words slipped to the proper authorities, he could be rid of this asshole for good, and then--

Well, that smirky little bastard Bobby would find out what his own liver tasted like when Shelley served it to him on a platter. Oh, what he wasn't going to do once Dale Cooper was out of his life.

"Leo? Leo?" Cooper asked. "I'm sure I'm intruding on a very important revenge fantasy, but I just thought I'd remind you not to break any rules unless you want to end up dead."

"Of course not," Leo said, forcing a smile. "Whatever you say, boss."

He stood up and left sullenly. Cooper nodded after the fact, and started planning the rest of his day. He had to make some sort of visit to Annie and attend the party and all without having time to clean his suit. It was going to be tough, but he was sure he could do it.

 

**Sheriff's Office  
2:25 PM**

Donna Hayward had not killed either Penelope Larson or Deirdre Malloy. Scully knew that, and after the third round of questions, Mulder had to know it, too. But instead of just admitting why she was in town, Donna was slowing things down, protecting whatever interest she had. If only the young woman would just tell them, Scully could be in her bed at the Great Northern, asleep. Instead, she was listening to melodramatic self-aggrandizement and it was doing nothing for her mood.

"For the last time, I didn't know her!" Donna cried. "I don't know what I was doing on the night of her death. I was probably studying. Maybe I was at a movie, but I didn't kill her. I didn't even know her."

It was true, too. Nobody they had talked to thus far could find a connection between Donna and Deirdre. Deirdre had been from in-town, very religious, very quiet. Donna had spent most of her college days with cheap booze, cheaper cigarettes, and mounting complaints. Scully tried not to yawn as Mulder asked another variation of the same questions he'd been asking for hours.

"Do you have business in town, Donna?"

"My parents live here," Donna replied flatly. "I grew up here. I don't deserve the third degree for coming to visit at a bad time."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Donna," she said flatly. "Listen to me. I don't need to hear any more excuses about your parents or your fond memories of Twin Peaks. Give us an account of where you were on the evening of March 27th, and you can go home and visit with your parents or go back to school or whatever you want. But until you start answering our questions, you're staying right here."

"Do you people really think James and I killed those girls?" Donna asked. "That's just crazy."

"We don't know what to think," Mulder said. "Why don't you tell us what to think? Why don't you just tell us where you were?"

"I have my reasons," Donna replied.

"And we have our reasons," Scully told her. "If you and James Hurley are planning the commission of a crime, I'd just forget about it. It's a bad week for crime, Donna."

"Who says we've got anything planned?" Donna said, her voice just a bit too high-pitched. Mulder hid a smile. So there was something going on.

"If the reason you won't account for your actions is because your only witness is James--"

"Look, I've been here three hours already. I'm tired of answering these questions. I didn't kill those girls. James didn't kill those girls. If you have anything else to ask me, I want a lawyer present."

"Fine," Mulder said. "Call a lawyer. I'm tired of playing games with you. If you don't want to answer my questions, then we'll put you in a holding cell and you and your lawyer can talk to us when you're ready to cut the crap. All right, Donna?"

Donna nodded sullenly. Mulder sighed and walked out of the room. Scully, yawning softly, looked at the young woman.

"I hope whatever you're doing is worth the bother," Scully said. "This didn't have to be complicated."

"Life is always more complicated than it has to be in Twin Peaks," Donna said, turning away from Scully. "We like playing with f-i-r-e."

"Did you ever think that maybe it would be less complicated if you just told the truth and stopped playing?" Scully snapped. "Laura Palmer died because of secrets."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Donna replied.

"Then why don't you do something to stop it?" Scully asked. Exasperated, she got up and left the room. Donna, shaken, looked down at the table.

"It would be easier to do if all of the secrets weren't in the family," Donna muttered quietly.

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
7:56 PM**

Scully's head ached as she counted the hours she had been awake. It was getting close to thirty-six hours now, and she wanted very much to lay down, curl up in a little ball, and sleep until she had to look at more forensic evidence on Deirdre Malloy or take a statement from Annie Blackburn. She was hoping, maybe, to get a quiet cup of coffee and maybe a little soup before she went to bed.

Mulder, on the other hand, hoped he could get his partner to talk more about these dreams she'd been having, or about the transfer, or anything. She had been dreamy and distant all day. Maybe she was just tired, but he knew there was something else and he wanted to know what. He needed to know what.

"Mulder?" Scully asked. "Why is there a crowd at the door over there? And what's that music?"

"I don't know," Mulder replied. "It looks like a party. Want to see what's going on?"

"Mulder, I'm exhausted."

"It'll just take a minute," he coaxed. Scully shrugged.

"Okay," Scully said. They walked into the dining room, slowly-- and then Scully's jaw dropped.

Mulder wasn't sure exactly what completed the effect: the ice sculptures surfing on the waves of punch, the fluorescent pink leis that were draped liberally on everything or everyone, or the fact that two very tone-deaf young women were singing _Blue Hawaii_ at the top of their lungs-- but he was very sure of one thing. They had wandered into the Twilight Zone. He looked at Scully. Scully shrugged.

"Is it live or is it Memorex?" she muttered sotto voce. Mulder shook his head and was then assaulted by a lei-carrying waitress.

"No, thank you. FBI regulations state agents cannot wear items that attract attention in a way that might be, um, hazardous," Mulder said hastily. "If someone in here had a gun, this could draw his fire to an unprotected area."

The waitress scurried away, wide-eyed. Scully shook her head disapprovingly and they wandered further down the rabbit hole, marveling quietly. The food looked fantastic, it was true, but everything else was kitschy to the point of impossibility.

"Agent Mulder! Agent Scully!" Audrey called, waving from across the room. "Over here!"

Mulder, followed by a less than enthusiastic Scully, walked to the head table, where Jerry Horne and a pair of lovely blondes were stuffing their faces. Audrey smiled and Scully, who was admittedly too tired to see straight, wanted to slap her across the mouth. Was this girl always up to something?

"Hello, Audrey," Mulder said. "What's this?"

"It's our Community Night," Audrey replied. "It's a new tradition at the Great Northern. We want the hotel to be a place-- hey there, Dr. Jacoby-- everyone in Twin Peaks feels comfortable visiting. I'm so glad you could make it."

Scully blinked. "We were actually heading up to our rooms," she began lamely. But there was no denying the lovely Ms. Horne's charm. If Scully said she was tired, Audrey would beg them to stay just for a minute. The minute would become half an hour, the half an hour would become half an evening, and it just wasn't worth wasting energy on. Besides, the food looked delicious. "But I suppose we can spare a few minutes to enjoy your hospitality. What do you recommend?"

"Well, you're in luck, Agent Scully," Audrey said winningly. "The main course is just about to be served-- roast pig and something called long rice."

Jerry made a whimpering sound. "There's nothing better than long rice!" he said distinctly. "It's to die for!"

"Sounds fantastic," Mulder said enthusiastically. "This is an absolutely wonderful idea, Audrey."

"Isn't it just?" Audrey replied, beaming. "And look, here comes our main course."

Huge plates of nicely arranged, steaming hot food were delivered to the table, and Scully had to admit to herself, it smelled divine. She still wanted to curl under a blanket and sleep until her clothes were out of style, but this wasn't a bad alternative. She ignored Mulder and Audrey and watched the new arrivals instead.

Mulder, for his part, was not about to turn down a free gourmet meal and was digging in happily.

"Wow, Audrey, you definitely know how to impress guests here at the Great Northern," he said between bites of long rice. "I don't know what this is, but it's-- Scully?"

Scully was standing up, white as a sheet, staring at some new arrivals. Audrey and Mulder shared a confused gaze and Mulder tried to get his partner's attention. She wasn't listening. After a moment, she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and shook her head.

"Are you all right, Agent Scully?" Audrey asked.

Scully didn't hear her. She was staring across the room, her mouth half-open in stunned shock.

"Scully?" Mulder asked. Scully still didn't answer, but she did say something no one around her understood.

"Daddy?" she whispered, dropping the wineglass. It shattered majestically, and before Mulder could ask her what on earth she was talking about, she had pushed her way down the table and was practically running to the couple who had just arrived.

"Audrey, who are they?" Mulder asked.

"That's Major Briggs and his wife-- Bobby's parents," Audrey said. "Does she know them?"

"I don't know," Mulder said. "She must."

Scully's eyes were heavy with tears. It was a sign, it had to be a sign. He had come all this way on this awful case, and she didn't care what he wanted, he was here. Pushing past the woman next to him, Scully grabbed on to the man's sleeve.

"Dad?" she asked. "Daddy?"

His head turned, and before Scully could say another word, she saw the nametag on the man's chest that clearly said Briggs. Her heart sank into her stomach and her cheeks were burning.

"Oh-- oh, excuse me. I'm so sorry," Scully managed to stammer. What had she been thinking? Her father probably didn't even know she was out of Washington.

"No need to apologize, Miss--" the man replied.

"Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI," Scully said, trying to get herself back under control. "I'm very sorry. You just look uncannily like my father, and I haven't slept in a while-- I didn't mean to intrude, sir."

"It's quite all right, Agent Scully," Major Briggs replied. "Major Garland Briggs, US Air Force. This is my wife, Betty."

"Nice to meet you," Scully murmured. Mrs. Briggs nodded. Major Briggs looked at Scully, then shook his head.

"Betty, dear, would you excuse us?" he asked finally. "I need to speak with Agent Scully privately."

"Of course," Mrs. Briggs replied. Major Briggs took Scully, who was thoroughly mystified by this turn of events, into the hallway, away from the crowd.

"Major Briggs, I'm not sure what you want to discuss," Scully stammered, still stuck on the fact this man looked just like her father. "Is it about the case?"

"No, it's not. It's you. Excuse me for a moment," he said, staring at her closely, almost seeming to examine her. "It's definitely you."

"What?"

"I've seen you before," Major Briggs replied. "And you say I look like your father? How peculiar. Maybe there's a connection between the three of us. And it's very strange that this is just our first meeting, isn't it?"

Scully nodded. "I'm getting used to strange things," she said. "This case has been full of strangeness, and when I saw you, I thought my father had come to help me."

"It's obvious you love him very much, and that he loves you," Major Briggs said. "I can see it in your face. I hope you don't think I'm being too forward in saying so, but it's clear you're very unhappy about something. Might I inquire what the problem is?"

"It's this case," Scully said. "I can't really go into it, you understand. But I feel like there's something larger than a murder case at stake here. There's something about this town and something that involves me."

"You're right," Major Briggs replied. "The connection is very real, and there is something larger in this town than a simple murder case, Agent Scully. And if that larger something, whatever you want to call it, is speaking to you, you must pay attention."

"What does it want?" Scully asked. "How do you know so much about it?"

Before Major Briggs could answer, there was a scream from the dining room. Scully, high on adrenaline, low on sleep, and wound tighter than a cuckoo clock, found herself in the midst of the party, gun drawn, without really remembering how she'd gotten there. Major Briggs was right behind her, and a small crowd of people was standing around where Mulder had been sitting. Scully's head swam.

"He just fell over!" Audrey cried hysterically. "I don't know what happened!"

"I'm a medical doctor," Scully said, shoving past everyone. "Everyone get back. Just GET BACK!"

He wasn't breathing. Oh, God, he wasn't breathing and her heart was about to stop and someone was playing the theme to _Hawaii Five-O_ and Mulder wasn't breathing. There wasn't any time to think about it. She had to make Mulder start breathing again.

"Someone call an ambulance!" she heard herself screaming. "Get an ambulance! Stop playing that damned music and do something!"


	8. Saturday, April 4, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You can only find truth with logic if you have already found truth without it."  
> \--G.K. Chesterton

 

**Calhoun Memorial Hospital  
1:45 AM**

"Oh, God," Scully muttered into her cheap hospital coffee. Her head was ready to split open and her contacts were killing her. Of course she had left her glasses in her hotel room. She had been so panicked about Mulder she had ridden in the ambulance, torturing the poor paramedics the whole way. Now she was sitting here with a lot of data to analyze and no energy to analyze with. A big teardrop fell into the coffee. Furiously, Scully wiped the corners of her eyes. Those were NOT tears. She simply needed to get her contacts out.

"Agent Scully?" a soft voice asked behind her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Scully insisted. "I just have a headache."

"Rough night?" Norma asked, sliding onto the bench across from her. "I heard Agent Mulder was rushed in tonight."

"He was poisoned. I can't believe it," Scully replied. "They just pumped his stomach. He should be okay in a day or two. How about Annie?"

"She still hasn't regained consciousness," Norma said. "Was the poisoning an accident?"

"I don't think so," Scully replied. "We're not treating it that way. I think whoever did this meant to stall the investigation."

Norma nodded thoughtfully. "So why weren't you poisoned?"

"I was supposed to be, but I dropped a wineglass on my dinner," Scully admitted. "It was a lucky accident."

She rubbed her painfully sore eyes again, trying to focus. Maybe she should go back to the Great Northern and get some sleep. Norma looked at her carefully.

"Have you slept?" Norma asked. "I know you stayed near Annie's room most of last night."

"It's been a couple of days," Scully said. "I should probably get some sleep but I'm worried that if I let my guard down, something will happen. And I'm not going to let anything else happen. If I have to stay awake for three more days, I'm going to find this bastard and crucify him."

"I'll find you some nails to finish the job," Norma answered. "Tell me if you need anything."

"I will," Scully said. Norma nodded and rose. "Good night, Norma."

"Night, Agent Scully," Norma said, walking away. "Evening, Harry."

"Norma," Harry Truman said, walking over to Scully's booth. "They told me you were down here. May I sit down?"

"Sure," Scully said. "How's the questioning going?"

Harry made a face. "So far, none of the kitchen employees has seen anything suspicious," he said quietly. "Audrey Horne also insists she has no idea what's going on. I think someone put her up to this dinner to put you two out of commission."

"Do you think she knew about the poison?"

"I don't think she could be this authentic if she were in on it," he said, shaking his head. "Audrey is her father's daughter, but she does have a humanitarian streak and she's genuinely concerned for the both of you. I think someone used her and there aren't too many people who can do that to Audrey Horne."

Scully's voice dropped. "This changes our list of suspects, I think. We definitely need to investigate Audrey and figure out who's putting her up to this."

"I agree with you," Harry said. "Are you going to stay here for awhile?"

"I don't think I could sleep even if I tried," Scully admitted. "Do we have guards on Mulder and Annie?"

Harry nodded. "I'm bringing Dale Cooper in for questioning tomorrow around noon," he said guardedly. "I don't think we should attack him. Coop was an FBI agent and I think he'll spot any games we try to play with him. We have to do it carefully but honestly."

"I'll do my best not to accuse him of murder," Scully said with a small smile. "Sheriff, I have a question. I have a pretty good idea what BOB looks like from sketches in the files. But did any of these supernatural demons ever look like a giant?"

"A giant? Why? Has someone seen a giant?"

"I--" Scully looked down. "This is going to sound crazy--"

"You had a dream and there was a giant in it and he told you three things," Harry said. "You didn't happen to see a dwarf, did you?"

"Nope. Just Laura Palmer."

Harry shook his head. "Do all FBI agents have psychic visions?"

"I've never had one before," Scully said. "So, Mr. Cooper had a dream about a giant?"

"Yes, right after he was shot and again when he identified Leland Palmer as Laura's killer," Harry said. "What do you make of it?"

"Strange things are afoot in Twin Peaks," Scully replied. "But I think it's important that we focus on one world at a time. First we find out more about Audrey's mystery man, then we can go chase giants and dwarves and the supernatural if need be."

Harry smiled. "Agent Scully, you're all right," he said. "I think you've hit on a good plan there."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

"Harry is just fine, Scully," he said. "I'm sorry about Agent Mulder."

Scully nodded. "He's going to be fine, Dr. Hayward says," she replied. "Whatever was in our dinner wasn't meant to kill us, just to get us out of the way. Oh, and I appreciate you having that sent off to the Seattle lab as quickly as you did."

"The FBI pathologist there, Albert Rosenfeld, owes me a few favors," Harry replied. Scully's eyes widened. "You know Albert?"

"As a matter of fact, he oversaw an autopsy of mine while I was at the Academy," Scully answered. "It was surreal. Everyone had been completely positive about my work and then Albert walks into the room and says, 'So you're the hotshot. Well, let's see what you can do once you get past playtime.'"

"Sounds like Albert," Harry said.

"I've never been so insulted in my life," she replied. "Every detail was put under a microscope. Every conclusion I drew, he mocked. The ordeal took three hours and when he finally, grudgingly, admitted that Dr. Scully, FBI, might actually be worth training, I wanted to punch him in the mouth."

Harry laughed. "That definitely sounds like Albert," he said. "Scully, are you sure you don't want to catch a few hours sleep? You're damned near transparent."

"I want to be around when Mulder wakes up."

"I appreciate that," Harry said. "But if you don't get some rest soon, you won't be coherent for the interrogation."

Scully sighed. "Fair enough. Could you drive me? I don't think I'm in good enough shape to do any night driving."

"My pleasure," Harry said. "I can tell you about the time I punched Albert Rosenfeld in the eye."

Scully laughed and stood up, yawning sleepily. Maybe she could catch a couple of hours of sleep and it was true that being too sleep-deprived wasn't going to help anyone.

"I think I'd like to hear that," she said, walking out of the cafeteria with the sheriff. "Several times."

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
8:18 AM**

"Dale, why weren't you there?" Audrey asked for perhaps the sixth time. Cooper wished he hadn't given her the option of using his first name. It blurred a line he needed to be very clear right now. "You said you were going to be there and you weren't and this terrible thing happened!"

"Audrey, just stay calm," Cooper said. "What have the police asked you so far?"

"They asked me who put me up to this," Audrey replied, tapping her fingers on the desk. "I told them it was my own idea. They've been questioning my entire staff about suspicious circumstances."

"Has anyone seen anything?"

"No," she said. "What's going on? Who did this, Cooper? I want some answers."

Her narrowed eyes were entirely too suspicious. Dale Cooper wasn't exactly sure how to deal with this mood of Audrey's. She wasn't going to accept sweet-talking or excuses and if he told her everything, he'd have to kill her. Then there was that damnable Leo Johnson, who had bungled a relatively simple job and left one of the FBI agents up and very suspicious.

"Audrey, as a friend and as a business associate, believe me when I tell you that now is not the time for answers," he began. "Our job now is damage control."

"My job is to protect my family and my interests," Audrey replied coolly. "I did you a favor, Dale Cooper. I bugged those hotel rooms like you asked me to. I held that ridiculous luau yesterday because you asked me to. You told me that it was to stop this killer from wreaking havoc on Twin Peaks. Instead, there's an FBI agent-- not to mention your girlfriend-- lying in a hospital bed. And you're telling me our job is damage control? Our job?"

"Yes, our job, Audrey. Bear in mind that your actions, no matter who directed them, were illegal. And while I may not be in the FBI anymore, I have a lot of friends in the Bureau," Cooper said with a smile. "It won't go well for you, I promise you."

Audrey's eyes widened and brightened with tears. "Why are you doing this, Dale? I thought you were my friend. I thought I was helping you do the right thing," she said in a desperate little voice.

"Didn't I just tell you not to ask why?" Cooper asked in a hard voice. "Listen up, Ms. Horne. This is what we're going to do and I would suggest not deviating from the plan unless you want to go to jail for attempted murder of a federal agent."

"I'm listening," Audrey said coldly.

"Number one, get all the listening devices out of the FBI agents' rooms. Fast. Do it discreetly."

"Oh, you mean you don't want me to do it right now?" she asked.

"No," Cooper said. "Number two, we have no business connection as far as anyone else is concerned. If people have seen us together, it's because we're old friends remembering old times. Number three, if I call with anything for you to tell the sheriff's office, you'll tell them, but otherwise, don't volunteer any information, no matter what. Do you understand, Ms. Horne?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Cooper," Audrey replied crisply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very busy schedule today."

"Of course, Audrey," Cooper replied. "Have a lovely day."

He stood up, shook her hand quickly, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. It reverberated majestically and Audrey, infuriated, threw a pencil toward it. The pencil fell about three feet from her desk and Audrey, tapping her fingers and her foot in unison, wheeled over to pick it up.

"I'm going to have a lovely, sunshiny day, Mr. Cooper," Audrey said, looking up to the corner of the room where the hidden camera was picking up evidence. "Peachy keen to the gills, thank you very much."

 

**Sheriff's Office  
12:07 PM**

The Dana Scully in the mirror looked a thousand times more confident than the one in her least favorite Sears suit felt. She didn't look like a rookie FBI agent about to conduct her first interrogation of the prime suspect in a multiple homicide. She didn't look like a nervous wreck who had phoned the hospital six times an hour for the last hour asking about her partner and secret lover. She didn't look like the kind of woman who would have a secret lover, period.

"I wish I had your life," Scully told her reflection. Her reflection just smiled sympathetically and Scully scrubbed her hands. All right, it was time. She was already seven minutes late and she wasn't going to let Mr. Dale Cooper, formerly FBI, get away with multiple homicides just because she had a case of the jitters. Scully took a deep breath and charged out of the bathroom into the interrogation room.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff Truman, Mr. Cooper," she said in her best Jodie Foster voice. "Mr. Cooper, I'm very glad you could join us."

Dale Cooper smiled and stuck out his hand. "I'm always pleased to assist in an investigation, Agent Scully. How are you? I heard that your partner has food poisoning."

Scully perfunctorily shook hands and sat down, pulling out her briefcase. She reminded herself that she needed to buy a new one soon. "Yes, his dinner had been seasoned a bit too strongly."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"As long as he doesn't eat any hospital food," Scully replied, not breaking into a hint of a smile. "Mr. Cooper, you understand that Miss Blackburn's recent illness and Agent Mulder's food poisoning have put you more firmly under suspicion, yes?"

"I thought as much."

"We're not formally charging you, Coop," Harry broke in. "We just need you to clarify some things."

"It's all right, Harry," Cooper said, his gaze fixed on Scully, who stared back at him as coolly as she could manage. "You're both just doing your job."

"Where were you last night around eight o'clock?" Scully asked.

"I was arguing with Mr. Gregory Devoe of Devoe's Dry Cleaning," Cooper said calmly. "He was about to close, although he had promised that my dress suit would be ready to be picked up by then. He finally gave me my suit, though not without a great deal of complaint. All in all, though the suit was in fine condition, the service was somewhat lacking."

"What did you need the suit for?" Harry asked.

"I had been invited to the function where Agent Mulder got food poisoning," Cooper said. "Ms. Audrey Horne and I are old friends. I enjoy looking my best at such events."

"Mr. Cooper," Scully said. "Do you remember where you were about six weeks ago? The week of February 28?"

"Hmm," he said. "Do you have a precise date?"

"Yes, we do," Scully said. "February twenty-fourth, as a matter of fact."

Cooper looked at her without breaking a sweat. "That was the week I went to visit friends in Seattle. Albert Rosenfeld came up and we had quite a reunion. I think that evening, which was a Monday if I'm not mistaken, we went out for dinner and then talked late into the night. Then I returned to my hotel-- a fine establishment, though by no means the Great Northern."

Scully nodded. Dear God, this guy was good. If he was a killer, he was a damned bright one. Alibis, witnesses, narrow windows of opportunity-- Cooper knew what he was doing. Still, he had been out of town, and nobody was going to remember precisely when they'd finished talking, but everyone would try to stretch their memories later and later.

"Mr. Cooper, do the dates of March 27th or April 19th have a special significance to you?"

"As a matter of fact, they do. April 19th is my birthday and March 27th is the day, three years ago, when I entered the Black Lodge to find Annie and escaped with her. A period of my life ended on that night."

"Much in the way Penelope Larson's life ended on March 27th," Scully said, almost to herself.

"Are you implying something, Agent Scully?" Cooper asked.

"No," she said. "Our killer meant to send a message and at this point, there is no evidence that would link you to these deaths, just circumstance. It's just interesting. BOB never seems to do anything randomly."

"You're quite right about that, Agent Scully," Cooper said. "Have you done much research into spirits and demons of BOB's mien? It's a fascinating study."

Scully bit her lip. "I'm afraid I'm not up on the spirit realm, Mr. Cooper. However, I am fascinated by the significance of dreams within this case. It is documented that both you and Laura Palmer had the same dream and that Sarah Palmer and Madeleine Ferguson were also prescient of the dangers in their lives."

"It's not so unusual, really," Cooper said. "Psychic ability usually runs in families and in the case of the Palmer family, those women were all in such immediate and overwhelming danger that their unconscious had to express it somehow."

"So why hasn't anyone in this set of murders manifested psychic ability?" Scully inquired, holding back her own dreams. Harry lifted an eyebrow, but she wanted to hear Cooper's answer first.

"My personal opinion?" Cooper asked. She nodded. "I think someone has, but he has not yet come forward. Fear is a powerful deterrent, Agent Scully."

"Have you had any psychic visions relating to this case?" she asked, still not wanting to let him know about her vision.

"I haven't," he admitted. "Has someone had a dream?"

The door to the interrogation room opened. "Sheriff Truman, Agent Scully!" Lucy said excitedly. "There's a phone call from the Great Northern. Andy says he just found an employee there named Dutreuil who saw a suspicious man smoking outside the hotel last night."

"Suspicious how?"

"Andy says that Dutreuil told him that the man looked just like Leo Johnson," Lucy said. "But I thought Leo was dead."

Scully made herself be the collected woman she saw in the mirror every morning while she looked at Cooper. He was good. He only blinked a few times, but she noted with a private internal smile he had snapped the pencil he'd been toying with.

Bingo. Leo Johnson, Audrey Horne, and who did it all lead back to? Dale Cooper. She'd known that from the beginning, just like her dreams had said. It was definitely time to go over her dream with a fine-toothed comb.

Cooper looked at Scully coolly. He was impressed. The little rookie med student knew what was going on. She was definitely a promising agent. Pity he was probably going to have to kill her.

They smiled at each other. The game was afoot.

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
11:09 PM**

The solitude was unbearable and she'd only been alone for fifteen minutes. She tapped her foot against the edge of the bed, pathetically out of beat with her Walkman, looking over her files for the tenth time. They still seemed to be in Greek for all she was getting out of them.

Good God, she missed Mulder. She got so much more work done with him around. Besides, it was lonely not having him torturing her about being meticulous.

Scully shook her head. She was being a complete idiot. It just wasn't possible. They had known each other for all of a month. He wasn't her type. Sure, it was great in bed and maybe they had a certain camaraderie building, but this wasn't love. Withdrawal, maybe. Good sex was addictive.

The phone rang. Scully dove for it and picked it up before the second ring.

"Hello?"

"There's a telephone call from a Mr. Steven Spielberg," the desk clerk said. "Do you accept?"

"Yes!" she said, a bit more emphatically than she meant to. "Mulder, is that you?"

"Wow, you sound a little enthusiastic," his friendly monotone greeted her. "Is everyone in Twin Peaks that boring?"

"No, I was just worried and I'm really glad to hear from you," she said. "We've got a few breaks in the case thanks to you."

Good Lord, did her voice sound breathless? Maybe it was just from diving across the bed like that.

Mulder laughed. "I'm glad having my stomach pumped helped our case," he said. "What have you and the stalwart Sheriff Truman been up to?"

"We questioned Dale Cooper today," she said, twisting the phone cord like a nervous teenager. "He's our guy, Mulder. He's definitely our guy. I'd bet my next paycheck on it. He has Leo Johnson and Audrey Horne working for him, but he's behind all of this."

"Does Harry agree with you?"

Did Harry agree with her? Who gave a damn? She knew what she was talking about.

"He's skeptical but he's slowly warming to the idea," Scully said. "Doc Hayward says that you'll be out of the hospital tomorrow."

"I'm glad to hear that. What have you got by way of hard physical evidence right now?"

"Deirdre Malloy and Penelope Larson were killed by the same person. The same sort of rope fiber is embedded in their wrists. The patterns of blows on the bodies are very similar. We still don't have any prints or DNA evidence, but we may get a footprint from Deirdre," Scully said. "We're fairly sure the girls were killed in different locations."

"Do either Donna or James have an alibi?" Mulder asked. Scully, sitting on her hotel bed, narrowed her eyes. He was being extremely tedious with all this unexpected nitpicking.

"No, but neither do Cooper, Annie Blackburn, or Bobby Briggs. I told you, Mulder, Cooper is our man."

"Scully, don't take this the wrong way, but as a field agent, you can't count your chickens before they hatch. Keep an open mind."

"I thought believing in my own psychic visions-- oh, forget it. We can argue about it tomorrow. You should be in bed."

"Worried about me, Scully?" he asked. "I'm very flattered."

"You could have died yesterday," she said softly. "It wouldn't have looked very good on my record if I got my partner killed on my second case out, would it?"

He chuckled. "Touche," he said. "I think that I should take your advice, you being a medical doctor and all. Besides, someone's going to find me and make me go to sleep soon if I keep talking. Sleep tight. Watch out for BOB."

"I've got my pistol under my pillow just in case," Scully replied sardonically. "Get some rest. I intend to put you through the wringer tomorrow, Mulder."

"I can't wait," he replied playfully. "Good night, Agent Scully, FBI."

"Good night, Agent Mulder, FBI," she replied. They hung up and Scully rubbed her criminally sore temples. The music on her Walkman was playing a raucous piano bar counterpoint to her inner turmoil, one of those strange moments in life where a song could fit a moment in an appropriately inappropriate way.

"The sun is getting dim-- will I pay for who I've been?"

Scully swayed a little to the music, lost in another reverie she didn't understand.

"And if I die today-- and if I die today-- and if I die today-- I'll go chasing nuns out in the yard--"

 


	9. Sunday, April 5, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That's how your whole life will feel someday. This is all practice. None of this matters. We're just warming up."  
> \--Chuck Palahniuk

 

**Remains of Packard Saw Mill  
3:00 AM**

Dale Cooper checked his favorite watch for the seventh time. It was precisely three in the morning and Leo Johnson was nowhere to be found. They had been scheduled for a rendezvous fifteen minutes ago, but the erstwhile Mr. Johnson had a tendency toward lateness. This time, however, Cooper suspected Leo was indulging in a little stalking and possibly a little assault on Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. That was intolerable, but only because Cooper had specifically told him not to do it. Bobby and Shelly were secondary in this game.

A filthy, noisy truck rumbled through the ruins. Dale, looking out toward the lake, remembered that the mill had burned over three years ago. Someone should have really razed this place and turned it into a park or a development, instead of leaving it an eyesore.

Then again, all the someones who had wanted to were sitting in prison right now, in the middle of five-year sentences. He shrugged. _C'est la vie_. Maybe it was better the mill stayed this way as a reminder to everyone of what secrets could do.

The truck, rusting to pieces, pulled up near Cooper's vantage point. Leo hopped out, almost grinning. It had been an enjoyable evening for him.

"Enjoying a little domestic terrorism this evening, were we, Leo?" Cooper asked sharply. "You were supposed to be here seventeen minutes ago."

"I'm sorry," Leo said, clearly not at all sorry. "I lost track of time. I was at the Roadhouse having a few brewskis and remembering the old days."

"How are Shelly and Bobby?" Cooper replied. "I hope they're still alive, for your sake."

"I swear to God, I haven't seen either of them," Leo said, holding up his right hand and trying not to smile. "Scout's honor."

"As I am quite certain you were never a member of the Boy Scouts of America organization, I regard that as a meaningless oath, Leo," Cooper said. "Come here."

Leo looked at his employer with a sneer. "I don't think so, Mr. Cooper," he said. "It seems to me there's no reason for us to work together anymore. In fact, I've been thinking. Ever since you've saved my life, you've made me do some terrible things. Crimes I'm sure the police would love to hear about."

"You were paid," Cooper replied, unperturbed. He had known this was coming. Leo Johnson was a ruin of a human being and he'd come to a bad end soon enough. "Are you trying to blackmail me, Leo?"

"I'm not trying," Leo replied, his eyes glowing ferally. "I'm telling you I'm gonna turn you in as soon as I can get to the sheriff's department, Cooper. I'll turn state's evidence."

Cooper was still nonchalant as he looked at his minion. "Is that so?" he asked.

"That's so," Leo said. "I'm sick and tired of your orders and your high and mighty attitude. Leo needs a brand new bag!"

"One last chance, Leo. All will be forgiven if you just come here," Cooper said.

"Screw you," Leo said. Cooper nodded, and reached into his pocket. "You think you're gonna shoot me?"

"Nope," Cooper replied, retrieving the trigger mechanism in his pocket. He pressed it lightly. Leo screamed as the hidden needle jabbed up from the heel of his boot. Cooper smiled. He knew putting that there would pay off someday. "I warned you, didn't I?"

Leo fell to his knees, screaming in agony. Cooper, who hadn't broken a sweat, turned to the backseat of his car and retrieved the ax he'd stolen from the Briggs house yesterday evening. He walked up to Leo, who was silently writhing on the ground in agony.

"Put out the light," he said, raising the ax. "And then put out the light."

The ax fell. There was one piercing scream and then utter silence. Cooper turned and walked away, getting back into his car. Closing the door, a smile broke across his face and he began whistling. Not a bad night's work.

 

**Sheriff's Office  
10:48 AM**

Lucy was busy making her sixth pot of coffee of the day when the phone rang. Sighing, she ran to answer it.

"Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office," she said. "How may I help you?"

"Lucy, it's Andy. Your sister keeps asking what happened to our regular babysitter and saying that it's too far from Tacoma to watch Andy Junior and I don't know what to do."

"Andy!" Lucy cried, agonized. "Why do you have to make things so difficult? I'll call her and then you and Andy Junior need to come to the station because every deputy needs to be here, regardless of child-care problems. Do you understand?"

"I'm just trying to help, Lucy."

"I know, but you're not!" she replied. "So why don't you hurry down here but make sure to bring Andy Junior's bag and a fresh bottle and some diapers. Oh, and make sure to bring some of her favorite videos because you know Gwen only has those British educational tapes and if Andy doesn't get to watch _The Little Mermaid_ she'll cry all night. And hurry up. The office is severely understaffed."

Lucy hung up and began to dial the number for her sister's in Tacoma as Scully, Donna Hayward, and James Hurley walked out of an interrogation room and toward the front doors of the station. James was holding Donna's hand protectively and Donna herself was looking very jittery.

"You two stay out of trouble," Scully said. "I mean it."

"We will, Agent Scully," James said half-heartedly, keeping his eye on Donna. "Good luck with the investigation."

"Thanks," Scully said, looking at the two of them and shaking her head. She didn't have time to worry about them. Shelly Briggs was weeping in another conference room, Bobby Briggs was lying in a hospital bed with a concussion and some severe bruises courtesy of Leo Johnson, Annie Blackburn was still in a coma, and Scully herself had been supposed to pick up Mulder twenty minutes ago. James waved a terse farewell and the two kids walked out of the office.

"God, I would kill for a Percodan," Donna said, feeling in her pockets for a cigarette. "I hate this place. I want to get out of here and never look back."

"Donna, are you sure you still want to do it?" James asked, walking her toward his motorcycle. "I think the gods are against us on this one. Let's just go back to WSC, sit tight, and wait for the town to calm down."

"No!" Donna snapped. "Dammit, I had a Darvocet in my purse. Look, when we talked to my dear, dear father, Mr. Benjamin Horne, what did he say? Seize the day. Take the birthright which is rightfully mine."

"He also said he was a jelly donut in German," James pointed out. "Donna, Audrey is going to laugh in your face for trying to blackmail her. WSC isn't so bad. Your life isn't so terrible that you need to do this."

"It will be now that everyone thinks we killed that girl," Donna replied. "No. Screw you and screw the police. I came here to get what's rightfully mine. Do we have any Valium at least?"

Fox Mulder, passing the squabbling couple without listening to them, shrugged off their argument and walked inside the bustling sheriff's office. Lucy was screaming at someone on the phone and everyone was moving at breakneck speed. There must have been a break in the case.

"Gwendolyn, you're going to come down here and take the baby or I am going to drive to Tacoma and knock all your teeth out!" Lucy shouted into the phone. "Oh, hi, Agent Mulder. I think Agent Scully's in the bathroom. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. This town was really something else. The door to the women's bathroom opened and a familiar head of red hair emerged, looking down at terrible faux leather pumps. Mulder, the true son of a fashionable mother, sighed at their ambitious tackiness.

"Lucy, is there a pot of coffee ready?" Scully asked, letting go of the door. "Shelly will probably need another cup and I sure as hell could use-- Mulder!"

Her face broke into a slightly embarrassed and entirely endearing little smile. "How did you get here?" she asked. "I know I was supposed to pick you up twenty minutes ago but it's been so busy here and I--"

Mulder crossed the room and without warning, kissed her full on the lips. Lucy paused in her tirade to watch.

Scully, after finishing the kiss, backed away from her partner, eyes round as saucers and hand over her mouth. That had been unexpected, unprofessional, and not entirely unpleasant. But she didn't have time to think about it.

"What brought that on?" she asked tersely.

"Well, I missed you."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "That's flattering," she said. "And a little worrisome, considering you called me just last night."

Noticing Lucy's curious glances, Scully pulled back further from her partner, trying to salvage any shred of professionalism she had left. "Mulder? I think we should talk about this later," she said. "I just stepped out of the room for a moment and now is really not the time or place."

"Who's in there?" Mulder asked.

"Shelly Briggs. Leo Johnson showed up at their place last night, beat on her and put Bobby in the hospital. She's really shaken up."

"Leo Johnson? He's alive?"

"Alive enough to tell Shelly he was going to come back and cut her into little pieces," Scully said. "Come on, let's finish up."

They walked into the room together, where Shelly Briggs was crying. "Bobby's changed, Sheriff Truman. He isn't dealing drugs anymore, I swear. He wouldn't do anything like that," she said.

"Shelly, I'm not asking you that," Harry said. "I just want to know where he was on Friday night."

The blonde sniffled majestically. "We went to the Roadhouse after I got off my shift," she said. "We were there from about eight o'clock on. I don't know where he was before that."

"Shelly, did Leo say where he was going when he left?" Harry asked.

"He said that he had to meet with the boss," Shelly replied. "I don't know who that is. Bobby was hurt and I was hurt and I was so afraid."

"That's all right, Shelly," Scully said. "Can you give us a time frame for when Leo left?"

"Um, not really. Maybe about two? I know he came in after midnight," Shelly said, her face puckered in concentration. "I'm sorry. I don't know for sure."

Scully nodded. Truman looked at the two agents and shrugged. "Do we have any more questions for Mrs. Briggs?"

"Not that I can think of," Scully said. "Thank you for your help, Shelly."

"Is Leo going to come back?" Shelly asked, her voice squeaking. "He's going to try to kill us, I know it."

"Shelly, we've got Hawk tracking him right now," Harry said. "Would you like us to send a deputy to your place? Or maybe you can go somewhere else and we'll keep an eye on you?"

"I could ask Norma and Big Ed," Shelly said. "Right now I'm going to the hospital, but I'll let you know."

"All right," Scully said. "If you need anything, let us know, Shelly. I mean that."

"Thank you, Agent Scully," the young woman said, rising. "Please just catch him."

"We will," Mulder said. Shelly nodded and Harry escorted her out. "Scully, what's going on?"

Scully sat down at the conference table. "Want a doughnut?" she asked before taking a chocolate glazed for herself. "Lucy was supposed to fix another pot of coffee, but she's got child care problems."

"Scully?" Mulder asked, looking at her expectantly.

"Leo Johnson decided to pay a visit to his ex-wife," Scully said. "Like I said, he assaulted both of them and ran off. Harry and I both think he's working for our man."

"Where is he?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Is anyone looking?"

"There's a team of deputies searching the area led by Deputy Hawk," Scully said through a bite of doughnut. "I think we'll find him-- or his body. I'm not really worried about it. I'm trying to schedule Audrey Horne for questioning, but she begged off. She has a meeting and a physical therapy session."

"Scully, Mulder," Harry called from the hallway. "Could you come out here for a moment?"

Scully shrugged, finished her doughnut, and strolled into the lobby. The Log Lady was waiting, her face as severe as ever. Mulder followed, still confused.

"My log has a message for you," she said to Scully. "Can you hear it?"

"I think you'll have to interpret for me," Scully said politely. She looked at the log and nodded. "What message do you have?"

The Log Lady paused. "The time is getting close," she said. "Sometimes I hear my voice. Do you understand the message?"

Mulder looked mystified but Scully, after a moment, nodded. "I do. Thank you," she said. The Log Lady, satisfied, inclined her head and left as quickly as she'd come.

"Scully?" Mulder asked. "What was that?"

"A message," Scully replied.

 

**Double R Cafe  
2:34 PM**

The air was crackling with secrets today, Donna Hayward decided as she took another drag from her cigarette. Bursting with secrets. Pregnant with secrets.

"James, baby," she said in a slow drawl. "What did I take?"

"You chugged some Robitussin," James said quietly. "Don't talk so loud, Donna."

"I'm high on cough syrup?" she asked, giggling. "I bet Laura never tried that."

Norma arrived with two steaming bowls of soup. "Are you all right, Donna?"

"I'm wonderful, Norma," Donna said. "Aren't I, James?"

"You're the Muffin, Donna," he said. "How's Uncle Ed, Norma?"

"He's doing all right. He misses you," Norma said. "Are you going to visit before you leave town?"

"We plan to," James said. "You're looking kind of tired. How's Annie?"

"Still hasn't regained consciousness," she said. "Are you sure Donna's all right?"

Donna giggled. James sighed. He had hoped the brush with the police would scare Donna off pills for awhile, but she had forced them to stop at the first drugstore they came across for something. The cough syrup had kicked in twenty minutes ago and James was hoping he could talk her down from the high.

"She'll be okay," he said. "Thanks for the soup. Could we get some coffee, too?"

"Sure," Norma said, walking away. James grabbed Donna's hand.

"Donna, you have to snap out of this," he said. "I can't watch this happen again."

"Oh, loosen up, Jimmy," Donna said, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I'm just having a little fun before we go talk to my dear sister, the cripple who doesn't talk to our daddy anymore."

"Donna, please."

"If you don't want to play, go'way," Donna said, looking at her soup. "Why is the soup jiggling?"

James dropped her hand. "Donna, I love you, but I can't do this," he said in low, urgent tones. "I can't watch you go down the same path that took Laura from us."

"Fuck Laura," Donna said. "Oh, wait, you did! And so did my real biological father! I wonder if my dad did, too, because everyone else did her. Why not him?"

Shaking his head sadly, James stood up. "I'm going to go. I won't be part of this anymore, Donna," he said. "If you come to your senses, I'll be at my uncle's. But I refuse to just play along as another woman I love destroys herself."

"Fine! Go! Who needs you anyway, party pooper?" Donna cried. James sighed, turned around, and left. "I hate you, James Hurley!"

She didn't need him, really. All of his scruples were getting in the way of her plan to get her rightful place in Horne Enterprises. Audrey would share the wealth or-- or--

Ignoring the strange looks from the other diners, Donna glared down at her jiggling soup. After a moment of indecision, she decided to try a spoonful.

It tasted remarkably like cream of potato.

 

**Roadhouse  
6:35 PM**

"Scully, I don't think this a good idea," Mulder said as they walked into the dark, smoky bar. "Leo's still at large, we have to talk to Audrey about Friday night, and we don't have a concrete suspect for the murder of Penelope Larson, either."

"We're not on a social call," Scully said, not really paying attention. She looked around the room, trying to shake the feeling of deja vu. "Something is definitely happening."

"Here?"

"Maybe," she said, searching the room for something. She didn't know what. "Besides, Mulder, I've been at work since three-thirty this morning. I deserve a little time to rest. And I wanted to go somewhere we could talk privately."

That got his attention. He looked at her quizzically, but she was still busy scrutinizing every detail of the bar.

"About the case?" Mulder asked, tapping her shoulder.

"This is hardly the place," she replied. "I was referring to our relationship in general and what we're going to do about it."

"Oh, like your transfer?" he asked.

They sat down in the nearest booth as she glared at him. A tired-looking barmaid strolled over to take their order.

"Coke," Scully said. "I'll take Pepsi if that's what you have."

"7-Up," Mulder said. The barmaid walked away. "So, let's talk about your transfer."

Sullenly, she looked down at the tabletop and then back at him. This was not was she wanted to discuss, but what the hell. It was better to do it now rather than later.

"I think it's for the best, Mulder," she said, trying to remember all of the very good reasons she'd had. "There are plenty of excellent reasons why I should transfer."

"Name three."

"I think they know about us, for one," she answered quickly.

"Who knows?"

"The higher-ups," Scully said. "Your government conspiracy guys."

"I don't care if they know. There's no rule against it," he said.

"It's more than that," she answered quietly. "I think I was assigned to the X-Files because they knew we would get involved. I think that they're counting on it, that it's part of their agenda, and--"

"I thought you weren't part of anyone's agenda," Mulder said sarcastically. Scully's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not," she answered in a steely voice. "I'm leaving because I won't let myself be used. I don't want to hurt you, either."

"Spare me the bullshit," he said. "I saw you in the office today. You could use some field time, but you've got a real flair for this stuff. I think that you want to be out of a dead-end assignment and into the mainstream. You think this work is a waste of time, but you don't want to hurt my feelings. Just admit it."

Scully shook her head. "That's not it!" she protested, even though that wasn't a bad summary of her former reasons. "I may not believe in the paranormal--"

Mulder snorted. "Speaking of that, for someone who doesn't believe, you're doing a pretty good job pretending," he said. "Dammit, Scully. You're so bent on proving yourself--"

It was the biggest cliche in the book, but she was beautiful when she was angry. Her head snapped up and her eyes met his, hurt and appalled.

"Screw you! I don't have to prove myself-- not to you, not to local law enforcement, not to anyone!" she cried. "I am doing my damnedest to solve this, Mulder. Don't you dare say--"

"I know you're doing your best and I love you for it," he said. "But you're getting too close, too personal. I think--"

"Say that again."

"You're getting too close--"

"You know what I mean," she said. "I love you for it? What does that mean?"

"Well-- it means what it means. You're so vigilant and tough and-- I don't know, it means I think I love you, I guess."

Scully bit her lip. "Well," she said. "What do I say to that?"

"I don't know," Mulder said, confused. Scully smiled, leaned over the table, and kissed him for a long, drawn-out moment. Finally, she let go, leaned back against the seat, and smiled.

"Why don't you think about it and get back to me?" she asked.

At the back of the bar, Cooper watched them. Shaking his head, he took another swig of his beer (Pabst Blue Ribbon, of course) and contemplated his next move. Annie or no Annie, it was time to move forward. Leo was dead and Audrey would be no trouble.

Cooper smiled. Oh, it was time to have some fun.


	10. Monday, April 6, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When you can do nothing, what can you do?" --Zen Koan

 

Blue flame.

The world is burning in blue flame and as she arches her back on the bed she is engulfed, scorched like the wicked, transformed by the fire into something rich and strange like diamond or ash.

The sensation is enough to make her scream.

Her scream makes music, not the sound she had expected to come from her mouth. It echoes around the room, exquisitely clear, and beautiful, ready to shatter.

It's all so beautiful.

"You mean it like it is and it sounds," someone tells her.

She nods in agreement, suddenly no longer on the bed. Now she's standing there in the woods, but she can't see the trees for the forest.

The forest is alive. It's chasing her. She runs but the owls can see her, they're following her, they know--

"I have a riddle for you," Cooper whispers into her ear. "Can you guess it?"

His fingers trace her lips. They're so cold it hurts the skin. And she likes it.

"How does satisfaction lead to appetite? How does appetite lead to satisfaction?" he asks her, stroking her neck. "How can cold burn? It's a mass of contradictions."

"I'll catch you," she whispers.

"Like a cold," he says. "Such a lonely soul."

"I mean it."

"It sounds like it," he replies.

"I will stop you."

He laughs and his laughter is ice. The world is freezing to death. It moves toward her, black ice that puts out the blue flame. She'll freeze to death.

One warm heartbeat.

She can hear it and it saves her. The sound is hot and moist and the black ice melts away from it. Cooper is watching her with owl eyes and the heartbeat is beating loud enough to make her ears ring.

"You may think I've gone insane," he calls. "But I promise you, I will kill again."

She opens her mouth to reply but blood falls from her lips, hot blood that burns the skin and scorches the ground. Clutching her mouth with her hand, she looks up.

The sky is the color of television set to a dead station.

_"Where have you gone?"_

"Where have I gone?" she moaned, thrashing around under the covers.

"Scully?"

She opened her eyes and didn't know where she was or who she was with. After a split second of sheer, adrenaline-soaked panic, Scully took a deep, frightened breath.

"Did you have another dream?" Mulder asked. Scully sat up, looking around the room wildly. "Are you all right?"

"No," she said. "I'm not."

The room looked safe, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. Getting out of bed, she looked under it, examined every corner, opened every drawer, and finally threw the windows open.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking," she replied tersely.

"For what?"

"I don't know," she said, staring out the window for a long time. Finally, tired and terrified, she sank to her knees and started to cry into the windowsill. "I didn't want this! Oh, God, I never wanted this."

Mulder, jarred by his partner's emotional meltdown, got out of bed and walked to the window, putting his hand on her very cold shoulder. "I think you should tell me what this one was about, Dana."

"Please don't call me that," she whispered. Mulder gently helped her to her feet, trying to coax her back into bed. She was shivering. "I'll be fine."

"I think you're about to have a nervous breakdown," he said, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms. "What happened?"

"Blue flame," she said. "It was burning everything. I don't know. It was so beautiful--"

She shook her head. Mulder put his arms around her tentatively. "What did it mean?" he asked. "Any ideas?"

"No," she admitted honestly. "Nothing that I didn't already know. There's something in those woods, just like everyone's said. That's where we have to look."

He nodded and gave her a more forceful hug. "All right," he said. "Tomorrow we'll sort this all out. But it's 4:30 in the morning. I don't know about you, but I'm still tired."

"Yeah," Scully said quietly. "It can wait until morning."

Mulder smiled at her and then got back into bed. She followed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and stared at the ceiling.

She was still staring when the phone rang.

 

**Ruins of the Packard Saw Mill  
8:17 AM**

Scully was still trying to figure out her dream as they got out of their fleet car and walked toward the body. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. Maybe it was just the chill in the air. Maybe it was just her.

"Who found him?" Mulder asked Truman.

"James Hurley," Truman said. "He was coming back from a long ride on his bike and saw the birds."

"Which makes my job _so_ much easier," Scully said sardonically. "Any idea of cause of death?"

Harry nodded. "Maybe you better go take a look for yourself, Scully."

She lifted an eyebrow and walked through the heaps of rubble. The familiar police tape and flashing lights were there. Someone was snapping photographs. Moving through the mess slowly, she looked at the body.

"Leo Johnson," she said, noting the ax embedded in the remains of his skull. "I need to get a time of death on him stat. And look what's on the ax handle."

BRIGGS was inscribed in black magic marker. Harry nodded. "We've already sent someone to get Shelly and Bobby."

"No," Scully said. "That's absurd."

"I know," Harry said. "I want to flush Cooper out from wherever he's hiding. He's not at his house, he's not at the hospital, and he hasn't answered any phone messages for two days. If he thinks he's gotten away with it, we may find him."

"Have you talked to Audrey Horne?"

"She's been similarly hard to find," Harry replied. "I've spoken to her once and she said she hadn't seen him."

"Can you get a warrant to search the Great Northern?" Mulder asked. "I think that's a logical step."

"It's in process," Harry said. "The only thing that isn't sitting well with the court is the lack of evidence. No blood work, no fingerprints-- hell, we don't even know where the girls were killed. It's not going to be easy to keep anyone locked up."

"What if we got a confession?" Mulder asked.

"We're not going to get any confession," Scully said. "And we have evidence right here."

"Even if Cooper killed Leo, that doesn't connect him to the other killings."

Scully shook her head. "It's all here," she insisted. "It was in my dreams. There is evidence here."

"Dreams?"

"Yes, dreams," Scully said. "Can I get a notepad and a pen? I've got to write this down. Maybe it'll make sense then."

Mulder and Truman exchanged a look and quickly found paper and a pen. Scully grabbed them and started scribbling what she could recall of the dreams. It all came out in fragments.

_hey there yogi bear-- sitting in the dark-- paralyzed-- "are you afraid of the dark or afraid of the truth within you? why are you afraid to believe?" -- melting into wax-- no voice, *can't scream*-- Laura's voice-- "darkness swallowed me--" warning me-- flash-- blood on the cross-- white light-- blood on the hardwood floor-- my face-- not my face-- flash-- I am the darkness and the desire-- take me-- you will know the true circle, the true life--_

It was suddenly as clear as glass.

"I think he killed them here," Scully said, looking up. "He did something so that they couldn't scream. Do we have the toxicological results for Deirdre Malloy yet?"

"Not yet. They're supposed to be here today," Harry said. "What makes you think this is the site?"

"Why meet Leo here? Why kill him here?" Scully asked.

"Because this is the sort of place where bodies aren't found for two days," Mulder answered her, catching on. "Lots of rubble. Trace evidence is going to be a bitch to find. And it's not directly connected to the Laura Palmer case, so it's no more likely than any other site."

Harry nodded slowly. "All that from a dream?" he asked. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"It's my fault for not looking at it sooner," she said. "I don't believe in prophetic dreams. I still don't know if this is prophetic. Maybe it's just my subconscious connecting the clues."

"Whatever it is, you should keep writing it out," Mulder said. "What else do you have?"

"I need to talk to Major Briggs about the Black Lodge," she said. "But I have to do the autopsy first. There's something here. In my dream last night, Cooper said 'I have a riddle for you' and this is definitely it."

Harry and Mulder looked at her silently for a moment. "All right then," Harry finally said. "We'll get Leo over to the morgue for you and we'll comb the mill for evidence."

"Someone needs to talk to Audrey, too," Mulder said. "She's definitely part of this."

"Why don't you do that, Mulder?" Scully said archly. "You two have a certain rapport."

"I think I will," he replied. "So it sounds like we have a game plan. Why don't we get to it?"

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
6:37 PM**

Audrey stared at Cooper. This was it. Time to do or die, so to speak. It wasn't going to be easy. Despite the fact that Dale Cooper was a treacherous bastard, every time she looked at his face, she saw the man who had saved her life, a man she had wanted to love.

"The police have been looking for you," she began calmly. "Agent Mulder came in around noon today. They want to question you in regards to a murder."

"Whose murder?" Cooper asked, watching Audrey's expression.

"They wouldn't say," she replied. "I heard it was Leo Johnson."

"Leo Johnson? You think I would associate myself with Leo Johnson, let alone murder the man?"

"I don't know what you'd do, Dale," she said. "When I agreed to help you, it was because I thought you were doing the right thing. Now--"

"What do you think?" he asked in a tone of voice that sent shivers down her spine. "What do you think I'm doing, Audrey?"

"You're not trying to help the investigation," she accused. "You have your own agenda. You set me up, Dale. You tried to kill Agent Mulder and I think you did associate with Leo Johnson. I think-- I don't know what I think, but you're not the man I thought you were."

Cooper stood up. "Those are serious accusations, Audrey."

"This is serious business, Dale," she replied. "I want to know what you've done."

"Why would I tell you anything?" he asked smoothly.

"Because if you don't, I'll go to the police right now."

The air around them crackled with electricity. Cooper stared into Audrey's blue eyes. There was no sign of weakness. She would go to the police, absolutely no doubt about it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Don't threaten me," Audrey said in an icy voice.

"I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you."

"What are you telling me? Are you telling me if I talk to the police, I'm going to end up like Leo? Are you telling me that your friends in the FBI will make my life a living hell?" she asked, her voice getting higher. "Did you kill those girls?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

Audrey's eyes filled with tears. God. He had-- he-- how could he? She didn't want to believe this. He had been her secret agent lover man, the white knight in shining armor and now-- now-- he was a killer? It wasn't possible.

"How could you?"

"Shut up, Audrey."

"Please just tell me why, Dale."

Cooper leaned over the desk. Audrey's eyes widened.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you," he said. "But I was going to kill you anyway, so what the heck?"

Audrey stood up and pulled the gun she'd had hidden in the waistband of her skirt. Cooper blinked with surprise and admiration.

"Get away from me," she said nervously. "I mean it."

"Oh, Audrey--" he said, smiling. "It looks like we're going to have so much more fun playing than I thought."

* * *

 

Donna Hayward was resolved. She'd get her fair share in Horne Enterprises tonight, come hell or high water. It wasn't as if she weren't entitled. She was Ben Horne's daughter as much as Audrey, dammit.

For a moment, she remembered her parents at home and almost gave up. Why would she want into this business arrangement of a family? Then again, Ben had been so supportive the last time she'd visited him. He didn't seem like the same man. And he wanted her to have a part of the business. He'd said so.

Audrey would listen to reason. It was true she and Donna had never exactly been friends, but Audrey was not a bad person. She was probably lonely, too. She'd welcome Donna as a friend and a sister. It was all going to work out.

It had to. She, Donna, owed a lot of people money. If this didn't work, she'd be in a lot of trouble. These weren't the kind of people who took no for an answer.

Donna thought of the unloaded gun in her purse. She had no intention of using it, but there was always a chance that things would go wrong, especially in light of recent events.

She strode down the hall purposefully. It was all going to work out. There weren't going to be any problems. Not one.

The door to Audrey's office was open. Donna quietly walked in, looking around carefully. It looked empty.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called. Someone coughed from the floor. Donna rushed over to the sound. Audrey stared up at her, the color drained from her lips.

"Donna?" she coughed. "What are you doing here?"

"Calling an ambulance," Donna replied.

"Good call," Audrey whispered.

 

**Calhoun Memorial Hospital  
10:30 PM**

The bells rang in her head, loud bells, singing out, ding dong ding dong. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. The owls were watching her.

Outside, someone waited for her to wake up. She knew this instinctively, the way she knew her nose itched, the way that she knew she was cold or hot. Someone needed to talk to her.

She had no voice left to speak with.

"How is she?" a female voice asked.

"The same," the doctor replied.

The same. Meaning she was dead to the world, a zombie, a victim who could not tell her story, or find release in death. She was comatose, lost somewhere between two worlds, the dweller on the threshold.

The time was getting closer every second. She knew that from the very sound of the heart monitor, from the color of the air she couldn't see. It was time to wake up. Time to speak, to fill the air with violent music, but it was hard to wake up from the dreaming.

"Annie, honey, please wake up," someone called to her. "Please come back to us."

She had no one to come back to, not really. It was safer here on the threshold, waiting. But there was more to think of than herself.

"He attacked Audrey," a somber male voice said, just out of earshot. "She would have died if Donna hadn't found her."

For a moment, she wanted not to hear, not to know, simply to float between the two worlds. But there was something she had to do. She had to come back.

The world smelled of antiseptic and fear.

"Doctor, there's something new on her monitors," someone called. "Come look at this."

She could feel her arms again, lying limply on the mattress. They were cold and prickly. There was an air conditioner somewhere in the room, keeping it like a living tomb.

If only she didn't have to come back.

"Annie? Annie, can you hear me?" a male voice asked. It was a doctor. She knew it was a doctor. "Annie?"

The owls were near. But she had to come back here, to the world that smelled so much of harsh chemicals and quiet desperation.

She crossed the threshold. Light flooded the world as her eyelids fluttered open.

"She's waking up," the doctor said, even though she had been awake the entire time.

Her lips didn't want to cooperate, but it was vital that she shared the message she had tucked away in the corners of her mind. Slowly, she tried to move the dried, cracked skin and the neglected muscle.

"She's trying to say something. Annie?"

It was very important that she said something, but this was not the person she wanted to talk to. Her tongue, dead weight in her mouth, slithered out and moistened the dry rock of her lips.

"Please," she managed to whisper, in a voice that was more shadow than substance. "I need to talk to someone."

"Who?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," Annie croaked, trying to move and finding her body felt weighed down with lead. "But it's a matter of life and death."


	11. Tuesday, April 7, 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "God made everything out of nothing. But the nothingness shows through." --Paul Valery

 

**Calhoun Memorial Hospital  
12:01 AM**

"You people never do anything by halves, do you?" Mulder asked Harry Truman as they arrived at the seventh floor of the hospital. "When it rains, it floods."

"It's better to do something right than not at all," Harry replied, unperturbed. "Where's Scully? Didn't she come with you?"

"She's downstairs fighting with the Quantico labs back in DC. She wants them to look over the toxicological results on Penelope Larson. Apparently Leo Johnson and Deirdre Malloy had the same drug in their system and she wants to make it three for three."

"Good for her," Harry said. "Is she all right? I didn't want to say anything, but she looks a little on edge."

Mulder nodded. "She'll be all right. I think she really wants to get the guy who did this."

"Cooper."

"I'm afraid so," Mulder said. "He was a good agent."

"He was the best," Harry said. "But the facts add up and I can't dispute them. I've got Hawk leading a team to try and find Cooper and bring him in."

"Good," Mulder replied. "I heard Annie's awake, too."

"She wants to talk to someone, but everyone we send in isn't the right person. Did you hear about Audrey?"

"Lucy told me when she called. Is she going to be okay?"

"It looks like it," Harry said. "Broken collarbone, broken arm, some cuts and bruises and one really bad knife cut that might have killed her if Donna hadn't been there."

Mulder shook his head. "This town is insane, Harry."

"Definitely. But only once in a while."

 

"You tell Dr. Greene that I don't give a damn WHAT his professional opinion is, they should run another tox on the body!" Scully yelled into the phone. "I've got two victims by the same perpetrator and they both show traces of the same chemical. What? How do I know it's the same guy? Are you seriously asking me that? Look, just run the tox again!"

She was tired, she was angry, she didn't really know why she was still fighting with this guy about chemicals and toxicological scans. The same perpetrator had killed Penelope Larson and Deirdre Malloy. That was proven. This was just blowing off steam. It was also, she had to admit to herself, a delay tactic.

Annie Blackburn was awake and she was refusing to talk to anyone so far. Scully needed to go up and see if she could coax something out of her, but she didn't want to do it. It would be another shadowy clue, a warning about fear and owls and fate. She had been awake since four-thirty that morning, worried about blue flame and black ice and it was all too much.

Angrily, she wrapped up the call quickly and stalked into the cafeteria, which was really too close to the morgue for comfort.

"You look like you could use some coffee," Donna Hayward said.

"What?"

"Call it a hunch," Donna said. "But you look like a person in need of a hit of caffeine and I also happen to know it's the only thing in the cafeteria that won't make you sick."

Scully nodded her approval and sat down. Donna quickly got two cups of coffee and joined her.

"Sugar?"

"No, thanks," Scully said. "I need the caffeine undiluted."

Donna nodded and fumbled in her purse, probably for a cigarette. "I'm sorry I was such a pain last week," she said, fishing out a box of Virginia Slims. "I was having severe emotional difficulties. You want one? Wait, you're a doctor, you probably don't smoke."

"I used to smoke like crazy when I was your age. They kept me calm during finals," Scully said.

"I started smoking after Laura died," Donna confessed. "I did it to feel close to her and also to feel like a bad girl, to be someone else. Now it's just a bad habit."

She lit the cigarette and took a drag. "Why are you down here, Agent Scully?"

Scully took a long drink of the coffee. "I had to talk to someone about an autopsy and I was tired. I've been awake for a long time."

"I don't think I could ever be an FBI agent," Donna said. "It sounds like you people never sleep."

"I think we like to say justice never sleeps," Scully replied.

Donna looked at her, narrowing her eyes.

"So where were you when Audrey was attacked?" she asked, angry.

"Doing my best on the very little I had," Scully said. She stood up and set her cup down. "Excuse me."

Donna glared after her angrily as she walked away.

 

"Ms. Blackburn?" Mulder asked the pale woman on the bed. "My partner and I would like to ask you some questions."

"I need to talk to someone," Annie insisted. "It's very important."

"I know," he replied. "Who do you want to talk to?"

"I want to talk to her," Annie said, pointing. Scully was not surprised to find Annie was pointing at her. "You know about what's going on."

Scully sighed. "Maybe I do," she said. "What is it?"

"The good Dale is in the Lodge and he can't get out," Annie said. "I couldn't tell anyone until now. BOB is within him now and he's not who he was."

"Where is BOB now?" Scully asked. "Do you know?"

Annie shook her head. "He's not here. I can't feel him," she said. "He wants something. I don't know what."

"How long did you know Cooper was BOB?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know. I don't remember," Annie said fitfully. She looked at Scully. "I was content floating between the two worlds. You'll see. Time doesn't matter. Space doesn't matter. You're just there and it's enough. I didn't want to come back."

"Then why did you come back?"

"I had something left to do," Annie replied. "I had to warn you. You can't be afraid of what's coming. Fear will betray you to BOB."

"Why do I keep getting the same message?" Scully asked, bending down close to Annie. "What's going to happen? What am I afraid of?"

"What's inside of you?" Annie asked, her voice a ghost. "Every fear that's part of you will be there. Every shadow you don't want to examine, every abyss you can't stare into. That's what you have to confront before you go into the Black Lodge or you'll be utterly lost. That's what happened to Dale."

Scully looked at Annie, knots twisting in her stomach. Confront every fear inside of her just to catch a killer? Wasn't it enough that she wanted to stop Cooper? She looked at Mulder, who nodded sympathetically.

"I'll do what I can," Scully said, turning to leave the room.

"Do better than that," Annie replied as they left.

 

**Great Northern Hotel  
11:15 AM**

"Mulder, this is crazy," she said. "It's too much. I can't be some sort of--"

He sat across from her in the overstuffed armchair, shirt unbuttoned, glasses hanging lazily on the end of his nose, listening. That or he could sleep with his eyes open.

"All the dreams, all the half-coherent mumbo-jumbo," she said. "I want to solve a case, not save the world or heal the town's wounded spirit. That's all. There's nothing spiritual or paranormal about putting a man under arrest!"

"I agree," Mulder said. "But there's always more to a case than arresting the guilty party. I remember when I was back in the ISU, there were things that make the Laura Palmer murders look like a cakewalk. I saw strange things out in the field long before I ever joined the X-Files, Scully."

"Did a town ask you to confront every fear you ever had in order to apprehend a suspect?" she fired back.

"Once or twice," he replied. "I told you that getting too personally involved in a case is dangerous."

"What am I supposed to do, Mulder? Stop sleeping?"

He shook his head. "Don't get defensive," he said. "So what if I think you're taking it personally? I'm your partner. I could be wrong. So what if the local sheriff is reluctant to prosecute the leading suspect in a case? You've got to take it in stride or you'll never get the position you want in the FBI, whether you stay with the X-Files or get a fast-track hot shot position anywhere else."

"Thanks," she replied acidly. "That's a big help."

"I live to serve," he said. "It's going to be all right, Scully, I promise. We're going to catch Cooper and then-- well, that's up to you, I suppose."

They sat there silently for a while. Scully stared at her fingernails, trying to find a flaw while Mulder seemed much more interested in the wood grain of the dresser.

"How's this going to work?" she finally asked. "You and me. Are we going to examine the furniture every time we're angry? Where do we draw the line between professional and personal?"

"I don't know," he answered. "It'll be an adventure, whether you stay on the X-Files or not."

"It wouldn't be easy," she said. "I think it might actually be impossible. Where do you draw the line between personal and professional? It's a lot of time for two people to spend together."

"But what if it's worth it?" he asked. "Maybe I'm setting myself up, but we've only known each other for what, a month? And this is how we feel? This is the connection that's already between us?"

"It's too much, too soon," she replied.

"I don't think so!" he said. "I think that we've got something rare here. One of those things that only comes around once in a lifetime."

She snorted softly. "That doesn't make it any easier. In fact, I think it makes it more difficult."

There was another uncomfortable silence. Then the phone started ringing. Mulder quietly walked over and picked up the receiver.

"Mulder. Yes, yes-- what? You think? Of course, we'll meet you there. Yes, I'll tell her-- of course, yeah-- all right. Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

He hung up and looked at Scully. "Shelly wasn't there to pick up Bobby today. She's three hours late. And Big Ed called the station and said Norma hasn't been home, either, and there's no answer at the Briggs house. We may have a hostage situation on our hands."

"Wonderful," she replied. "So what do we do now?"

"Whatever we have to," Mulder said.

 

**Briggs Residence  
12:18 PM**

There had been few weeks in BOB's many centuries that had gone as well as this one. Murder, mayhem, and betrayal and without any sense of remorse trailing along like a ragged ghost. It was sheer violence, pure and simple.

"Dale," Norma said again, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "You don't need to do this."

"I don't need to do anything," he replied. "I like what I'm doing."

He picked up his knife, and with the other hand, pulled on a long lock of curly blonde hair. Shelly breathed in, face streaked with tears as the knife fell and more of her hair fell to the floor.

"Don't cry so much, Shelly," he said. "Think of this a preview of coming attractions. After all, we have ten fingers and ten toes waiting for us, don't we?"

"Why are you doing this?" Shelly whimpered.

"Didn't you listen to what I told the busybody over there? I like it, so I'm doing it. Is that so hard to understand? That's what you and Bobby did, didn't you? Right on the table in front of your husband?"

"Let go of me!" Shelly screamed.

"Nope," BOB said, lifting the knife again. "I hear the bald look is in, Shelly. Let's make you trendy."

 

Scully disliked bulletproof vests. They never fit properly, but it was better than dying. And focusing on the bad fit of her vest was keeping her mind off Norma and Shelly and the self-recrimination.

"Do we have a team in place?" Mulder was asking over his walkie-talkie. "I'm almost ready to make the call."

She forced herself to focus. They were going to call Cooper, try to negotiate, and if that didn't work, well-- he was a dangerous psychotic who had killed three people, wounded another, and God only knew what was going on in that house right now.

"What if he doesn't pick up?"

"He'll pick up," Mulder said.

The walkie-talkie crackled. "Mulder? Scully? We're in place."

"All right," Mulder said. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number for the Briggs house. Scully caught her breath, holding it close.

"Dale?" Mulder finally asked. "Cooper, this is Fox Mulder from the FBI."

She exhaled, closing her eyes, praying that Shelly and Norma were all right, praying that this nightmare would end right now.

"Can you hear me, Cooper?"

Mulder's voice sounded distant. If she didn't pay attention it faded out into an indistinct hum she couldn't follow. She needed to pay attention but it seemed so absurd. Cooper wasn't going to agree to be arrested and he sure as hell wasn't done playing with Shelly and Norma yet, or them, for that matter.

"Don't make this difficult," Mulder said. "Listen to me, it's not too late. Cooper!"

"It's two years too late," Scully said, opening her eyes.

"He hung up," Mulder replied briefly. He picked up the walkie-talkie. "All right, he didn't respond favorably to the first phone call. Do you have a position?"

"We should go in," she said. "He's not stable."

"I've got a position on him," the walkie-talkie buzzed. "He's on the move."

"Come on, Scully, we're going in."

She nodded, her system suddenly flooded with adrenaline. Her bulletproof vest felt too heavy, but that didn't matter. They were moving in, through the woods toward the house. It was time for a confrontation. Time to end the nightmare.

A shot rang out. "What was that?"

"I don't know, let me see. Shit!"

Mulder and Scully ran. "We've got a man down! It looks like he hit him in the face with a blunt object and his gun went off," the walkie-talkie buzzed.

"We need a location on Cooper," Mulder growled, pushing the button. "Where's Cooper?"

Bursting into the clearing around the house, Scully's gaze immediately moved toward any object in motion. Her body, tense with adrenaline, felt ready to burst. Cooper was nowhere to be found. The downed deputy had one man next to him, while two others were already in the house, but no Cooper.

"God damn it," she hissed. "We lost him."

"He can't have gotten far."

"He's in the woods, Mulder. He's got the advantage," she said.

They walked up to the porch cautiously. Harry was just inside the house, trying to calm a hysterical Shelly. Half of her hair was on the floor and there was a prominent cut bleeding on her cheek.

"Where did he go, Harry? We had people watching all around the house, didn't we?" Scully asked.

"I know. He just seemed to melt away into the woods, like he wasn't there. Hawk was following him--"

"Where would he go?" Mulder asked.

"Glastonbury," Scully said. "He's going to try to get into the Lodge, the same way he did before."

Both men looked at her strangely. "How do you know that?" Mulder inquired.

"I just know. Come on, let's cut him off at the pass," she said, hurrying to the door.

 

**Glastonbury Grove  
1:30 PM**

Giving in to her irrational instincts had made everything so much easier for Scully. She was calm as the sheriff's cruise raced over the roads, sirens flashing. Mulder was shouting into the radio, Harry kept giving her strange looks, but it all made sense. The dreams, the messages, the gut feelings-- if she'd just given into them sooner, it would have been much easier.

Then again, giving in was not her style. There was a scientific explanation for all of this, but she was damned if she knew what it was and frankly didn't have time to look for one. Maybe later. She just knew that Cooper was heading here, trying to reach the Lodge and if she lost him, she'd never find him. That was unacceptable, both professionally and personally.

"I remember when I came here with Coop," Harry said, apropos of nothing. "It was three years ago. He was frantic because his partner had kidnapped Annie Blackburne. I would have never dreamed this would happen."

"Who could?" she said. "How did Cooper enter this Black Lodge?"

"There was a curtain and he just-- went in," Harry said. "It was strange. I don't really remember it properly. He was there one minute and gone the next."

"Hope your spidey-sense is tingling, Scully," Mulder said. "The FBI never taught me how to enter quasi-dimensional places."

"As Deputy Hawk said, I'm on the path, Mulder. I don't need to know where it leads," she replied, getting out of the car.

"When did he say that?" Mulder asked.

"You must have been getting a cup of coffee," she said, walking into the trees. Mulder, surprised, followed her with Harry only a few paces behind him.

After a few moments of looking around the grove of trees, Scully sat down.

"Scully?"

"He's not here yet," she said. "We're just going to have to wait for him to arrive."

"How do-- never mind," Mulder said. "I hope you're right, though."

He leaned against one of the trees, looking around suspiciously for Cooper. Scully didn't notice. She was too busy watching the sky and the high branches.

It was much later when she finally saw what she had been watching for.

"Mulder," she said, standing up. "Look."

He turned to see what she was pointing at, tired of waiting in this godforsaken grove of trees, worried about his partner's mental state, nervous about what Dale Cooper was planning.

"It's an owl," he said.

"The owls are not what they seem," a lazy drawl came from behind Mulder's head. "Isn't that right, Agent Scully?"

Mulder turned around. He heard Scully hiss softly and he immediately saw why.

Dale Cooper, eyes glowing with madness, stood about twenty feet from the two agents, aiming a gun directly at Harry Truman's temple. His finger was on the trigger.

 


	12. 4/7/1992 -- 4/8/1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen: "when you've once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences." --Lewis Carroll

 

_[Much of this sector of narrative is undateable; we have extrapolated as best we could from the file and other information --Ed.]_

**Glastonbury Grove  
5:14 PM**

"It's interesting that we've reached this point," Cooper said conversationally, still holding his gun to Truman's head. "When you arrived in Twin Peaks, I didn't think you'd get very far. Of course, I'd stacked the deck against you."

Scully nodded curtly. "Are you Cooper or are you BOB?"

"Hmm, let me see," Cooper said. Unbelievably fast, he hit Harry in the head with the gun, letting the man fall to the ground. Then he spun, fired at Mulder and hit him square in the stomach. Mulder crumpled to the ground in a heap and before Scully could react and pull her gun, Cooper had turned again, aiming the gun at Scully and howling.

"Does that answer your question, Special Agent Doctor Dana Katherine Scully, FBI? I hear you've been having naughty dreams about me. Is that true?"

"How did you know that?" she asked, stammering.

"I didn't. You just told me."

"Very funny," she croaked. Instinct and adrenaline had her paralyzed from the neck down and the only thing she could focus on was her breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

"What can I say? I'm a comedian," Cooper said, grinning. "What's the matter, Scully? Cat got your tongue?"

She was afraid. He had a gun aimed at her and she was afraid she was going to die. All of her FBI training hadn't prepared her for the moment of heart-stopping panic.

"Drop the gun," she said. "Cooper, put the gun down."

"Oh, I thought you'd say something more interesting than the usual FBI line. Next you'll be telling me that if I don't surrender myself, you'll have to use deadly force. Don't you remember? Cooper was an FBI agent, Scully! He knows all the little games you're playing. But we're not playing your games. It's my game and we're going to play my way."

Scully took a deep breath and started remembering every warning she'd gotten over the past week. Don't be afraid. In. Out.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "Can't you manage to spout more than cliche cliches and hollow threats?"

"Ooh, the little lady's trying to fight back. Wasn't Mr. Tall, Dark, and Spooky over there supposed to protect you from people like me? You are the novice, aren't you? Do you want to play with fire?"

She could feel her legs again. They were no longer trembling, but her stomach was still doing backflips.

"I just want to make sure you never hurt anyone again," Scully said, feeling calmer. She was still afraid, but somewhere in her head, she'd cleared a space where she was in control again.

"Follow me close, then. Let's see if you can play with BOB and not get burned," Cooper said, walking into point-blank range. Instead of shooting her, he reached up into the air behind her. There was a curtain that hadn't been there before. Without wasting any time, he pulled it and walked through, disappearing.

Scully's jaw did the stereotypical thing and dropped. But her hand reached up even as her jaw tried to pick itself up and she took the next step.

"Hey," Mulder said, grabbing her shoulder. "Were you going to wait for me?"

"Mulder?" she asked. "But he shot you..."

"Kevlar," he reminded her. "I'm going to have a bruise the size of my fist, but I'll live. Let's go."

They took a few steps, and then they too, were gone. Harry, who curiously had the good luck to wake up about ten seconds after everyone had disappeared, looked around in shock and then went to call in to the station for backup and an ambulance.

 

**The Black Lodge  
Time Unknown, Perhaps Time Irrelevant**

She was finally here. In every cell, she knew this place. And Dana Scully was dangerously, fatally afraid.

"Scully, come on! Cooper is getting away!" Mulder called from a million miles away. He was standing right next to her.

Scully shivered. Every dream she'd had led to this place. Major Briggs had tried to explain it to her; Laura had tried to warn her. Hell, Cooper had given her a few clues, but now it was real. The sky was broken, reality had splintered into little pieces, and she could feel the danger in each heartbeat.

"Listen to me, Mulder," she said intensely, in a voice that seemed too old to be hers. "We have to be very careful in here. It's not what it seems at all. We can't get separated or it'll be disastrous."

"It'll be worse if we don't catch Cooper," Mulder replied. He seemed relatively unaffected by the Lodge, looking at it like a curiosity. "He's totally lost it and if he gets away from us, we're looking at a mass killing spree in town."

"At least in town, he's only getting your body," she said. "Let's go, Mulder. Let's stop this once and for all."

Her face was so determined when she said this that it jarred Mulder into realizing just how weird their new surroundings were. The red curtains, the lack of windows, the zigzag floor-- it was most definitely strange.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're right, we should stay close. This place doesn't look particularly stable."

"What tipped you off?" Scully asked sardonically. "Walking through a curtain hanging in the middle of the woods, maybe?"

"That's what I love about you," he answered. "You're pragmatism itself, even in a supernatural netherworld haunted by demon-possessed ex-FBI agents."

"Save the flattery for a week when I'm not seeing dead girls and being consumed by blue fire in my dreams," she replied. "If I'm so sane, why do I keep seeing things that aren't supposed to be there?"

"You mean like that?" Mulder asked, pointing across the room.

Her eyes widened as she looked to where he'd gestured. Lounging on art deco chairs that had not been there before were three people. Two of them were Laura Palmer. Well, Laura Palmer and her identical cousin. The third was a tiny, red-suited dwarf, who grinned at her, sending cold dread down her spine.

She had been here before in the dreams. Something terrible was at the center of this place and it was moving toward her. Scully knew the little man, though she'd never seen him before. It was all coming together in a way too horrifying to contemplate.

"No, they're actually here. Wherever here is," she said, walking up to the surreal trio. "Aren't you?"

Maddy looked at her, turning her palms up and raising an eyebrow. "Where's here?" she asked.

"Do you know where BOB is?" Mulder asked. The little man laughed.

"Here. Not here. Both ways!" he announced, smiling broadly.

"What does that mean?" Mulder persisted. "We're looking for BOB. Do you know BOB?"

"Wow, BOB, wow," the little man replied. He stood up and began dancing, snapping his fingers to an internal beat.

"At least they're not talking backward," Scully said with a sigh. "Come on, Mulder."

"It's like trying to get coherent information from the Cheshire Cat," he replied, turning his back and walking toward the exit, which also hadn't been there before. Scully looked at the three one last time. Laura tapped her nose.

"Watch out," she mouthed.

Scully nodded, and then followed Mulder out of the red room into a hallway...

And then there was nothing solid at all.

Everything shifted around in patterns of color and light and dark and sound-- up could be down if down was too busy being up and it was all so-- topsy-turvy, burning with cold and blue with flame that one step could be one step or a hundred.

"Scully?" Mulder called. "Where are you?"

She couldn't see him any more than he could see her. Reaching out, there was only the black ice from her nightmares, and terror started to move through her veins. She would be paralyzed by it if she couldn't find Mulder.

"Help me," she prayed quietly. "Somebody please help me."

There was a column of white light before her, but instead of an angel, Scully discovered Major Briggs, saluting crisply.

"I heard someone ask for help," he said. "Are you lost, miss?"

"My partner and I are trying to get through the Lodge," she said. "Major Briggs, it is you, isn't it?"

He looked at her with a curious smile. "Have we met?"

"We will meet," she replied, remembering what he'd said to her before. "How do you get through here?"

"Love and hope," he said. "Don't fear the path. Don't think about the path. Just walk it."

Scully understood. It wouldn't make sense anywhere else, but here, where reality was a metaphor and vice versa, those were perfect directions.

He smiled at her again. "You're very familiar," he said. "Are you here for a reason?"

"I came to stop BOB," she answered.

"God be with you, then," Major Briggs said. The light faded and he was gone.

"Scully!" Mulder was calling. "Are you there? Where are you?"

She could hear his heartbeat. It felt like her own.

"I'm here," she said. And she was. Grabbing Mulder's hand, she found herself standing at the entrance of another room with zigzag flooring and no windows. "And here we are again."

"It's the same room!" Mulder said. "But we crossed that hallway before you disappeared for a moment and-- where are we?"

"How the hell should I know?" she replied, walking into the room. It seemed to be the exact same room they had left, perhaps shifted two or three atoms to the left, and without Laura, Maddy, and the little man.

"Doppelganger!" someone cried. Scully turned her head and sure enough, there was the little man. He laughed, and as if on cue, Laura emerged. It was the wrong Laura, though. Her eyes had no pupil to them, just white that stared malevolently at them.

"Isn't she supposed to be dead?" Mulder growled. Scully nodded and remembered something she'd never known. They had to get out of here.

"Mulder, let's go back. He's not here. It's not safe here," she said.

"What?"

"Come on!" she urged, practically dragging him out of the room. Then they were in the corridor again and it was so much longer this time, twisting and turning in on itself, finally reaching their destination to find it blocked.

"Wrong way. Go back," the dwarf said. Mulder, frustrated, tried to walk into the room and found himself unable to enter.

"We can't go back the way we came! There's nothing there!" Mulder shouted. "I thought it wasn't safe there."

"There's got to be something," Scully said, sounding more confident than she felt. Thoroughly discombobulated, they walked back to the first-- or was it the second?-- room, looking around again. It was empty. No doppelgangers, no Laura, no giants nor dwarves.

"Round and round in circles and nothing to show for it," Mulder said. "I feel like I'm in a fun house and everyone's having fun but me. Shall we try the other room again?"

Scully nodded, and started to follow him, but found she couldn't. She was caught on something she hadn't seen. Damn half-lit Black Lodge. Why perpetrators preferred the dark, she didn't know. Shit, she was stuck. She began to turn to Mulder to get some help.

"Didn't the little man tell you this was the wrong way?" someone whispered in her ear. Her breathing quickened. Cooper, or more accurately, BOB, had caught her, one arm pulling her arms back as the other caressed her cheek fondly. "You ran right into my heart, Special Agent Scully."

"Mulder!" she called, tugging against her captor. "Help me!"

Mulder, turning around quickly, immediately pulled his gun, but Cooper didn't pay any attention to him, pulling Scully closer.

"I want to see through your eyes," BOB whispered into her ear. "I want to taste through your lips. I want to feel the pleasures you feel."

"Let go of her!" Mulder shouted. "Cooper!"

"What do you want?" BOB whispered to her, ignoring Mulder. "If you give me what I want, I'll give you what you want. I'll give you his life."

Looking over at her partner again, she realized he wasn't moving. He stared at her, frozen, and she realized slowly that Cooper had a gun aimed directly at Mulder. All of her visions had come true, distilling into one deceptively simple question.

What did she want?

It was a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea, Mulder's life or her soul. How could she decide that? She felt her body shivering, trying not to cry as BOB pulled her in closer, giving her a soft kiss on the neck and it was all she could do not to scream.

Focus, Dana, she thought to herself. What did the Giant say? What had everyone said? Love and hope were the way through the Black Lodge. Fear would only annihilate her. She could not make a choice out of fear. But she had to choose.

What did she want?

"You're making me very tired, Scully," BOB said, hissing. "I want you. I don't care about him. Don't fight me. We'll have the desire and the darkness together. It'll be a golden circle you never imagined."

Her mind raced as she looked at Mulder again, forcing herself not to be afraid even as Cooper shot at his feet, threatening her again that Mulder would die if she didn't choose.

Two is just one looked at in a different way, she remembered. It was important. Why was it so important?

As she looked at the room again, it started to blur, shifting perhaps one molecule to the left or right. And suddenly, everything came together, clear as glass.

The Black Lodge was the shadow-self of the White Lodge, two things at once. Except the Black Lodge wasn't really real. As she thought this, the room shifted again.

It was two things at once. The object and the reflection only separated by desire, everything and nothing in one space... and for the briefest moment, she understood it all.

She did have a choice right now, but not between her life and Mulder's. There was no difference between them. They were connected. Her life was intertwined with Mulder's and what she wanted was for that connection to continue forever.

It should have been a grand, earthshaking revelation, but Scully didn't really have time for fireworks. Her mind felt strangely calm, as if it had been obvious the whole time, the way it had fallen into place so neatly. It was simply the truth; a wonderful, life-altering truth, but that was all.

"Tell me now or I'll kill you both," BOB hissed into her ear.

"How can you kill me if I'm over there?" she asked, pointing across the room.

She abruptly found herself standing next to Mulder, holding the gun triumphantly. Both BOB and Mulder were staring at her.

"How'd you do that?" Mulder whispered.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter," she said. "What matters is that we're leaving and he isn't."

BOB cackled ghoulishly.

"That's what you think," he said, beginning to walk forward. But before he'd walked ten feet, there was a sudden burst of light and a blood-curdling, soul-wrenching howl.

Dale Cooper suddenly lay on the ground in front of them, while ten feet away BOB ran around madly in his true form, howling in rage. His eyes glowed ferally as he found himself trapped by nothing he could see or hear or touch.

"How did you do it? How could you do it? I'll catch you! I'll catch you all in my death bag!"

"Mulder, help Cooper up," Scully said, suddenly very tired of the theatrics.

"But--"

"He can't hurt anyone anymore," she said. "Do it."

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting us out of here," she said, lifting the gun as Mulder rushed over to the fallen Dale Cooper, slapping a pair of handcuffs on him as he helped the ex-agent to his feel. Taking a deep breath, she put her finger on the trigger and fired.

 

**Glastonbury Grove  
4:15 AM**

Harry Truman was on his fourth canister of coffee and showed no signs of weariness as he stared at the circle of twelve trees. Every patrol car he could get his hands on was there, waiting. He himself had a nasty bump on his head that was giving him a splitting headache, to say nothing of the nice scratch on his temple, but he wasn't going anywhere. He had been through this before. Any minute, the three FBI agents would emerge into that grove and he was going to be ready for them.

"How long has it been?" Hawk asked.

"Nearly twelve hours," Harry replied.

A shot rang out. Ten deputies had their guns out, waiting. Harry took a deep breath. This was it. Sirens blaring, he watched as Mulder, Scully, and Cooper emerged from thin air, looking surprised to be surrounded.

"Mulder? Scully?" Harry called. "Cooper? Where the hell have you been?"

Scully looked down at her hands. The gun was gone.

"Oh, God," she whispered as the world of flashing blue lights, handcuffs, and unseasonably frosty morning air enveloped her. "I wasn't dreaming after all, was I?"

"Maybe you still are," Cooper said as the grove filled with officers. "Maybe we're all sharing the same dream right now."

Troubled, she looked away from Cooper, who calmly accepted being handcuffed, and toward Mulder, who had the same disturbed expression on his face. It was over.

That didn't make anything any better.


	13. Full of Secrets: Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Anything more than the truth would be too much." --Robert Frost

 

_[Note: Much of this material is not part of the official FBI file. It is included in this record because the missing "evidence" reported makes the story, and the behavior of the protagonists, so much more comprehensible. --Ed.]_

**April 9, 1992  
Twin Peaks Sheriff's Office**

She looked so tired today, Mulder thought as he watched his partner listening to the police interrogations between Dale Cooper, Dr. Jacoby, and Sheriff Truman. It was soon going to be out of their hands completely, but Scully didn't look ready to leave.

As for himself, he wanted out. The prosecution aspect of this work had never interested him, and he was fairly certain in this case that the true perpetrator of the murders was trapped in some interdimensional room with a crazy floor, at least for now.

For his part, Cooper was being extremely cooperative. He had not exactly confessed to the murders, but he had given the sheriff's department everything they'd need to put him away forever. The only problem was the change in Cooper made that all less satisfying. The former agent clearly regretted what had happened.

"Do you remember what you were thinking when Deirdre Malloy died?" Truman asked.

"It was very exciting for the part of me that wanted to kill," Cooper replied, staring straight ahead. "BOB found it pleasurable. I remember trying not to emotionally connect to it, to focus on the physical feelings of doing the crime. I was sickened by the actions of that night."

Scully turned her head and noticed him looking at her. She gave him a sad little half-smile that didn't disguise the worry in her face. He didn't understand what was troubling her so much about him. She'd been nearly silent since they'd left Glastonbury Grove and he'd had to respect that, even though he'd desperately wanted to find out what was wrong and kiss it away.

Something in the Black Lodge had rattled her terribly. He didn't understand that, either. He suspected she had seen more than he had there but she hadn't said a word. Instead, she kept looking at him with unhappy eyes, finally refusing even to look.

"Did you try to seek help?" Scully asked suddenly. "Did you ever have enough control of yourself to try?"

Cooper looked at her, his face suddenly wracked with regret. "I tried," he said in a low, beaten voice. "But I didn't try hard enough."

Mulder shook his head and left the room. It wasn't his case anymore, if it had ever been. Let someone else finish this business, he couldn't do it anymore.

Scully watched him go, as silently as she'd been watching him since they'd re-emerged from the Black Lodge. It had been so clear in the Lodge, but now it was far too complicated. She was frustrated. The man answering her questions was not the brutal murderer she'd chased into the red room. He was only another one of BOB's victims. Maybe she'd won when she went into the Black Lodge, but it had turned out to be a partial victory. She knew what she wanted. But how did wanting translate into her life?

"When I was part of BOB, it was different than anything you could imagine. I don't think it was like this for Leland Palmer or for any other of BOB's children. He wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. I didn't believe he could be stopped," Cooper was saying to Harry. "I wasn't in control of myself. In a way, it wasn't even really me. I was looking through my own eyes like a stranger."

"So how did you get free?"

"BOB and I were separated. He was bound by his own lack of understanding," Cooper said. "He could never understand love or hope-- and that's what stopped him."

He looked at Scully with a mixture of awe and sympathy. "Harry, so few of us understand what a miracle love is. It could save the world if we understood it-- of course, true understanding is similarly rare. It's a strange and terrible miracle we dress in mawkish sentiment because we're afraid of the truth."

Scully stared at Cooper. She didn't know whether to be angry or grateful.

 

**Double R Cafe  
April 10, 1992**

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, how good to see you," Norma said with a sincere smile as they walked in the diner. She seemed to have handled the recent kidnapping with her usual serene grace. "What can I get you? It's on the house."

"A short stack of hot cakes, extra butter, maple syrup on the side, two eggs over easy, a tall glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, two sausages, and a cup of coffee, sugar, no cream," Mulder said. "I want to savor my last breakfast here in Twin Peaks."

"How's Annie?" Scully asked, exchanging a little glance with Norma. "And Shelly?"

"Annie was released from the hospital today," Norma said. "I think she'll be okay. My mother offered to take her on a vacation to Portland but Annie said she had to work things out here. Shelly's doing all right, too. The Briggses took her to Seattle to get a haircut from the most expensive salon in the Pacific Northwest and Bobby promised to buy her a new dress. I don't know how they'll afford it, but she'll feel better soon."

"That's good to hear," Scully said, smiling. "Can I get a cup of coffee and a slice of huckleberry pie?"

"Of course. One giant breakfast, two coffees, and a slice of pie coming right up," Norma said. The two agents sat down in a booth right behind the Log Lady, who was chewing noisily on biscuits and gravy.

"I'm going to miss this place," Mulder said. "I'm already dreading that first bite of airline food."

Scully nodded.

"Do you want to talk yet?" he asked. "You've been really quiet. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think I'm ready to talk about it, Mulder," she said. "Things happened in there of the serious, life-altering, deep questioning kind. I don't know what I think yet. I'm still dazed. What am I supposed to say? I saw things that I cannot explain. I'm trying to integrate that into what I know."

"So you're just going to go mute until then? What about me? What about our partnership? What about tomorrow?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking, Mulder," she said as Norma arrived with two steaming cups of coffee and set them down. "What about tomorrow? There aren't any simple answers to what I saw and what I believe."

"I love you. I think you love me. Isn't that enough?"

She stared at him in anguish. "It should be, but I'm not sure," she said. "Please just let me figure this out."

"If you're looking for a kind way to break this off, do us both a favor and just tell me," he replied.

"That's not it at all," she objected.

"What is it, then?" he asked.

"When I know, Mulder, I'll tell you," she replied as Norma returned with breakfast.

 

_Journal Entry: April 15, 1992_

And here I thought March was a rough month.

We made it home, no thanks to the airline, which cancelled our first flight and almost bumped us off the next one. If I never spend another second in O'Hare, I'll be a grateful woman. And now it's supposed to be all over. Blevins is going to transfer me. The papers were processed while I was in Twin Peaks. I just have to sign them and it's over. I'm temporarily assigned to Quantico, but I've been assured my exemplary work on this case has assured that I don't spend any more time there than I need to. It's the happy ending, isn't it? Evil is overcome, love triumphs, and now I can close this brief chapter of my life with no real regrets.

Two weeks ago it might have been that simple, but now I lack the words to explain anything. I was questioned about the case in detail, but I don't really have the words to explain the Black Lodge or BOB, or even the certainty that _they exist_. Mysticism is so hard to explain on federal forms. The best I can do to explain BOB to these people is to use my own tired "Stockholm Syndrome" explanation. It doesn't sound so believable anymore.

I can't deny what happened. I was there, on a threshold between two worlds. BOB confronted me, and I felt the terror I imagine Cooper felt, faced with that primal darkness, feeling both revulsion and fascination. Whatever BOB truly is-- a demon, a devil, or perhaps just the psychic evocation of the evil within all human beings-- he is a force that cannot be denied. And what really sends it all crashing down around my ears is that somehow I stopped him. I can't wrap my mind around it, no matter how hard I try. There was a moment where I had a revelation and I had the power to do what I did.

But it's over now. I feel like myself again, thinking about the rest of my life, figuring out what to do with this damn form, my get out of jail free card. Except every time that I think of turning it in, my stomach turns somersaults. I keep rationalizing that it's a good thing. I love him. I want all the good things that come with being in love-- flowers, candy, sex, companionship, and so forth. But to do that, I know I can't keep working with him. It's simply a bad idea.

I should transfer, but I know, instinctively, that's not what I need to do. Maybe it's just a very pragmatic voice in my head that points out that two workaholics like Mulder and me are never going to have time to be in love if we're not sharing an office. But that's not it! God, I knew this. I understood it all in the Lodge, but now that I'm back in DC, where the world follows the laws of physics, it seems hazy.

I can't do this to myself. Leaving the X-Files is for the best. I knew that before I went to Twin Peaks and I still know it now. I can't keep going on these cases, where the rules of science-- hell, the rules of reality-- do not apply. I can't give up on objective reality and get lost in that world. It's too difficult.

We'd have to stop seeing each other. It's too risky, too dangerous. We'd burn out that connection we have. But it wasn't our romantic relationship that saved us. It was a connection that transcended that. It's strange, but being lovers was hardly part of what I saw.

There was something deeper. I saw it and it terrified me. It still terrifies me because the future holds something dangerous for us, no matter what we choose to do.

We're too different! We're oil and water professionally! It would be so much better if we stayed lovers and not partners in the Bureau. It would be simpler--

I have to do what I know is right.

I don't know anything anymore.

 

**Annapolis, Maryland  
10:13 PM**

Listening, right now, was easier than thinking. And so she listened to everything; the traffic, the breeze, and the music. None of it was more than white noise.

"Well I woke up this morning, grey dawn, with a prayer on my breath-- see, I'd lost something precious, and God'll save me from losing myself--"

The phone rang, high-pitched and insistent. Scully picked up the phone, cradling it awkwardly between her shoulder and jawbone.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Scully, it's me," he said. Of course it was him. No one else called her this late.

"Mulder--" she said hesitantly, trying to find the words to explain her decision.

"No, listen to me," he said. "I've given it a lot of thought, Scully. I don't want you to transfer, but if that's your choice, I'll support it."

"Well, good news, then," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Really?"

"Really," Scully said. "But there's more. If I stay-- if we stay partners, we can't keep on the way we have been. We'd be too vulnerable. And it's too fast, too soon."

"I'm not going to say I like it," he answered. "You've obviously been thinking about it, though. Is that really what you think is best?"

She bit her lip. God, she didn't want it to be this way at all and really, it was a compromise choice. But it was still the best choice. Scully knew that, although it hurt to say so.

"I do, at least for now," she said in a voice that sounded too confident. "Maybe some day it can be different. I don't know. I don't want to do this, Mulder, but I think it's for the best."

"So we just pretend nothing ever happened? Strictly professional?" he asked in a slightly bitter voice.

"Yes," she said. "Strictly professional."

He was quiet for a long time. "You mean this," he said at last. "This isn't some sort of game to you. You think this is the right thing to do, never seeing each other again."

"I didn't say never," she answered. "Just not now."

"I can do that," he said finally. "I don't want to. But if you want to be partners, then that's what we are for now. Partners."

It didn't sound any better to her than it did to him.

"I still don't believe in UFOs or Bigfoot, you know," she said sadly. "I'll keep you on your toes-- and probably piss you off, too. We'll probably want to kill each other most of the time."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Mulder replied. There was another awkward silence as they both tried to think of things to say. "Hey, Scully, get some sleep, all right? We have work tomorrow."

"You, too," she said. "Mulder?"

She probably shouldn't have said it, but she knew it would be a long time before she got to say it again.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Yeah," he said. "Good night."

He hung up. She stood up and walked to the window, staring out of it for a long time. The darkness lay thick over the world before her, with stars twinkling lazily in the sky. Silently, she held on to the windowsill, watching the stars go by and trying to find part of herself that would be ready for the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Wow. It's done! And I loved doing it. I love Twin Peaks and X-Files so it was great going back and meshing the two together. Anyway, a few acknowledgements: thanks to my wonderful legion of beta readers-- Jen, Loa, Rachel, Audrey, and KT. You guys really helped whip it into shape. Also, song/TV credits: Jerry is all about Iron Chef, Tori Amos' "Happy Phantom" played on headphones, "He's So Fine" by the Chiffons is what Cooper menaces Annie to, and at the end the song is "Pushing the Needle too Far" by the Indigo Girls.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.


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